


Sharpest Lives

by Miss_Murdered



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Crimes & Criminals, Language, M/M, Porn With Plot, Sex, sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 08:23:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Murdered/pseuds/Miss_Murdered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Heero and Duo are criminals travelling and committing crimes to escape their pasts and build a future over the Mexican border. A story of young love, sex and crime in a series of connected one-shots. 1x2x1</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sharpest Lives

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a series of one-shots so they do not feature direct continuity and were meant to be smutty and fun but kinda transformed into something a bit more complicated as I wrote them…  
> The title is taken from the My Chemical Romance song Sharpest Lives and each chapter is inspired by a particular song.  
> It was beta-d by the lovely ELLE and it is all down to her encouragement that a 5000 word one-shot morphed into the 30k fic that it is today.  
> And of course, I don't own Gundam Wing and never have or will...

**Part One**

**Sharpest Lives**

 

_~ Give me a shot to remember_

_And you can take all the pain away from me_

_A kiss and I will surrender_

_The sharpest lives are the deadliest to lead_

_Sharpest Lives – My Chemical Romance  ~_

 

The view out of the motel window only showed the dark parking lot through the dirty glass. Heero looked through, his gun still in hand observing the stolen vehicle they’d arrived in and then opened the window the small amount it was allowed and let some air into the stifling warmth of the room. It was second floor. He would’ve preferred first floor but then it would do fine – he’d requested facing the lot rather than the scummy pool and the fat guy behind the desk had complied and not raised an eyebrow as he gave a name that was obviously fake. The cash he handed over, the bills now separated from the elastic bands, were looked at more cautiously, held up to the light as though checking for traces of ink dye or evidence of a fake. They got that look a lot as he had handed a week’s cash without blinking and the motel guy looked at them both, their frayed thrift store clothing and their obvious youth and doubted that it was real or legal.

Duo noticed that he was looking at the bills too closely and brought up a fact about how ninety per cent of bills had traces of cocaine on it – a fact that Heero was not so sure was true but Duo had said it with a smile, put a hand on the small of his back to ease that tension and the guy behind the desk nodded. Heard that too, he said, like they were co-conspirators and asked if they were interested in something as there was a guy who lived permanently in room 104 and he had good shit. Heero only shook his head at how the potentially awkward situation had been diffused and the two keys were handed over and the guy returned to some reruns of old baseball games on ESPN Classic. Duo waved and said thanks for tip – being overly friendly as always – supposed it worked. Not that they needed any good shit. The booze and the money and the mounting tension since knocking over the convenience store would be enough tonight.

Heero moved from the dirty window to the bathroom. Turned on the light and expected cockroaches to move. None did but it wasn’t the cleanest. They didn’t do hotels with maid service. Did weekly places, all cash, or hourly places, all cash or sleeping in the latest car they stole or bought with stolen money. They dropped cars, burnt them sometimes just to watch them go up, making out and drinking as they burnt.

He left the bathroom, walked over to one of the double beds where the duffle of cash was sat, the gun sat on top of it – newly acquired. They’d not used a gun at first. Knives to the throat. Picking old diners at closing without anyone around or old gas stations not taken over by Exxon or Shell with one solitary employee. He’d never been afraid of guns – knew how to shoot one and seen the extreme violence of a shot to the head. But they’d not used them until this last robbery.

Guns were traceable. Bullets were. The point of the constant movement, shit motels and burning and dumping vehicles was that they were not traceable so that they could continue their small time crimes and dream of Mexico.

The sound of the lock put Heero back on alert. Duo was too relaxed but he knew he overcompensated by being far too cautious – but then there were times he just lost it. Encouraged by a wild look in blue eyes and pulled him close in the middle of what they were doing – kissing him hard as the employees were bound in duct tape or hardware store rope and cash registers were already emptied and thrown to the floor. He went for the gun, the cool metal of it, remembering how it felt to be fired for the first time in a heist. Odin had taught him with tin cans. A cheap version of hunting in a city and he knew the correct posture but he’d never used a gun apart from that. He’d wanted to at thirteen when the local mob caught up with Odin, made to watch the bullet go into his head – left alone then. His mother long gone and the man who may or may not have been his father bloody on the floor. Managed to avoid foster care and the system for a year through the invaluable hacking skills until he’d beaten that kid and the principle had wanted to see his father… all came out then. And he’d been alone. Forced between homes until he’d inevitably ended up in juvie and then not alone. Not since then. Not since Duo.

The door opened and Duo walked in, locking it behind him, pulling the metal chain across it and carrying the supplies he’d gone to get. The heat in the room seemed to rise as Heero watched him walk.

“Hey, you were really gonna shoot me?”

Heero hadn’t realised he was still holding the gun, put it down onto the bed and watched as snacks of the sweet, unhealthy and salty kind were put on the circular table – nothing healthy but then if he’d wanted anything that wouldn’t rot his teeth or clog his arteries then he’d have had to go.

“Have to be careful,” he answered.

That store had a security camera. He’d shot it out but maybe it had recorded their images long enough for them to be recognisable. Should tell Duo to get rid of the braid – all that easy to recognise hair but he’d seen that image of a three year old little boy holding onto a junkie mother with a braid and knew he wouldn’t do it. Neither would Heero make him – as Duo moved closer, taking long slow strides across the worn carpet, t-shirt riding ever so slightly upwards as he did, the ripped old jeans far too long slung and those thrift store t-shirts thin and tight but Heero didn’t complain as he reached out for braid and the body he wanted.

“Yeah but we’re one state over and there’s been nothin’ on the news yet… just chill, ‘Ro. You worry far too much…”

Duo nipped at his ear, a tongue darting out and he felt the roughness of it against his skin – he felt like Duo had been teasing him all day – since they’d left another town and during their robbery with the kiss that seemed gratuitous and stupid but irresistible and in the car journey, swigging on the stolen Jack Daniels and working the top of the bottle in his mouth with a slight hint of tease. Then there had been the fucking Tootsie Pop he’d swiped for no other reason than Heero’s personal torment as he’d driven. It had been a relief for him to fall asleep – cross state lines and find the first shitty enough motel as now he could do what he’d wanted to do.

The heat in the room rose a little more as Heero’s hand went to the back pocket of black jeans, pushing him close, totally flush and their scorching hot bodies making contact that was beyond lust, and the other hand went to the back of Duo’s head, pulling at the braid and forcing their lips to meet.

A little crime always made them horny.

There was a rush to this kiss. Heero would make it up to him later, be gentler or just not rush it but the tease had been too much and there was the high from getting the cash and using the gun and it all made him want Duo now – though Duo didn’t seem to be reluctant. Despite the hint of aggression, the way that Heero forced his tongue deep into his mouth, Duo opened his wide, his own tongue entwining, tilting his head to allow the kiss to be ripped from him. Heero’s hand moved from the back pocket of the jeans and ran up to the small of the back, the firm muscles rippling and pushing the t-shirt up. He felt Duo’s hands making their own explorations and Heero couldn’t help the muted moan when he touched the front of the pale blue jeans, rubbing over where his dick began to become painful against the restricting fabric. This moment of surprise proved that the young man in his arms was his fucking equal even as he tried to maintain some control and he felt himself be pushed forward towards the bed, the back of his legs meeting it and he sat on the edge. Duo followed him, his legs on either side of his, straddling him and his lips left Heero’s – allowing him a moment to rake his teeth down his throat.

“Fuck,” he heard Duo breathe and Heero felt a level of satisfaction.

Gentle would be for later. Not now and there had always been something about marking him that was an unbelievable turn on – that this fierce, violent and dangerous young man was _his_ and he was the one fucking him. He intended to bite down but he felt a hand on his jaw, forceful and then Duo made him to look up into lust filled blue eyes.

“Did it turn you on today?”

Heero blinked and decided right now was not the time for that question considering he had a raging hard on and that evidence was against Duo’s own ass.

“You turn me on,” he said and tried to pull Duo’s head back down for another heated kiss but it was blocked.

“I ain’t asking you that as I _know_ I do,” he said, the teasing back as he ground his hips downwards against Heero’s and it was hard to concentrate on anything but the burning need in his jeans and the hot, hard body pressed against his. “Did this turn you on?”

The gun was in Duo’s hand and Heero had no idea how he had it. They were on the bed with the duffle, the money but Heero had been concentrating on the body and Duo was fucking crafty. Made him a better thief – it was him that had shown him to get around the security at the Noventa house and got them a supply of jewellery that they’d had to fence at much lower prices than it was worth. But there was something exciting about breaking into a rich persons home and fucking on the bed while a party went on downstairs and they could walk away without repercussions and have a couple of thousand dollars’ worth of sparklers. All by just flirting with a lonely little rich girl – Duo always had an angle.

“It’s not a toy,” Heero said.

He rolled his eyes in response. “I know that, babe… I’m just having a lil fun…”

Heero sometimes worried about his lover’s idea of fun as he felt the barrel against his chest in a close approximation of where his heart would be – the cold metal against hot skin even through the material of the t-shirt. Duo moved it in a slow circle over his chest, to nipples, the cold being pleasurable on his overheated skin. He didn’t want to think whether it was a turn on – there had always been something about their crimes, about the danger and living close to the edge and the life perched on the edge of a knife blade that was so fucking exciting. They were always too close to the edge – that they could fuck up and be caught and end up in jail. And they swore they never would end up jail.

They’d take suicide by cop than be separated – Heero had promised that to Duo when they started this – promised it when he’d stood over his hospital bed when he’d been beaten within an inch of his life before the cash and the violence and the heists. They’d never be separated. Never be apart. Always them against the world. Maybe nineteen was a little young to promise that but fuck if he cared. Fuck if he wanted anyone else.

“Stop.”

Heero grabbed the wrist holding the gun, tight, tight enough to hurt but Duo didn’t give indication of the pain, the cool metal slipping from his fingers and falling towards the floor. He released the wrist, conscious that he could’ve left bruises and looked up into blue eyes.

“Stop teasing me,” he said.

He received a cocky smirk in response but Heero leaned upwards, wiping that smirk off his face with a tongue across the lips and then delving into that mouth, claiming, possessing. Duo’s body responded, creating friction, heating up, burning like it always did.

His fingers finally touched Duo like he’d wanted all day, sliding up the soft material of t-shirt, scraping nails down sides, up to erect nipples and down across firm abdominal muscles that fluttered under his fingers. He left those lips, taking the bottom lip with his teeth before releasing it and pushed up the fabric, Duo moving his arms, aiding in its removal and for a second it stalled the intense passion. Still made him pissed when he saw the scars scattered across Duo’s chest – still hated to see them and for a second he just leaned his head against his shoulder, breathing him in – breathing in that scent and remembered how he thought he was watching him die.

“Heero.”

He heard the voice, none of the joking, none of the sarcasm and humour – a gentle, hell, maybe loving tone. Then there was movement and it took him a second to realise the intention of his lover, who slid down between his legs, pushing them apart firmly and he felt the movement of a button being popped and a zipper being pulled downwards.

“Duo…” he murmured, unable to help his name slipping out as a skilled hand sought out his hard cock and tugged it out of boxers and jeans.

Their eyes met and Heero could tell him that he didn’t need it right now, that they should fuck instead, but he was nineteen and he had a willing fuckable guy offering to suck him off and he wasn’t going to deny him fucking anything. He could have all the cash, the gun as long as though that tongue - that flicked out, swiping the tip, making him shudder – and that mouth went down on him. He leaned back on the bed, on his elbows, and let Duo do whatever he wanted. Seen the techniques today on the Tootsie Pop, on the tip of the Jack Daniels bottle and now on his dick as a tongue swirled round the head, and then a mouth sucked the tip, barely daring to look down as the technique changed and he felt lips take more, a hand at the base, another on his thigh, gripping into flesh through denim.

“Shit…”

He couldn’t stop the moan, the incoherent words, looking up at the cracked motel ceiling rather than Duo, head between his legs, head bobbing, alternating between tongue and a the tiniest hint of teeth, and then taking his cock in further than he thought possible. Bypassing gag reflexes and he felt the swallowing around his dick, tried to still his hips and not make the instinctual movement as he felt the white hot feeling building and he made a noise to warn Duo and then it was fucking it. He was coming hard and that mouth was still hot around him.

It took a few moments for his thoughts to be anything more than pure pleasure and then his softening cock was slipping out of moist lips and Duo was crawling into his lap, his tongue demanding entrance so that he could taste his own cum, sharing the flavour. Their kiss separated.

“Don’t think about any of that shit,” Duo said, “we’re ain’t there anymore and ain’t nobody gonna hurt us.”

No, those thugs were cities away, states away, miles away, in the pouring rain of the North West and they were heading south – always heading south, to the border, eventually and to beaches and hot sweaty nights and tequila.

“I know.”

Heero knew but it didn’t stop him thinking even as he ran his fingers down Duo’s chest, reaching for the waistband of jeans, finding zip.

“Off,” he commanded.

“You think ya got another round in ya?”

He didn’t answer, instead, made his intention clear, hands forcing zipper down and then Duo stepped out of his reach, not letting him have any more contact as he slid those tight, tight jeans down, removed sneakers and socks but left boxer shorts on and returned to within touching distance.

“No fair. You’re still fully dressed...well, not totally,” Duo smirked, eyes drifted down to his spent cock.

“Do something about it.”

Heero knew he shouldn’t encourage Duo – could already see that it was a bad idea to offer it like a challenge as he was pushed from his reclining position to down fully on the bed and talented hands were underneath his own thrift store t-shirt, not as tight but pushing it up and a tongue licked at the skin revealed and he could already feel the stirrings of arousal at the body above him – he always responded to Duo. Lost since that first day in juvie – boy with a fucking braid taking shit and for some reason he’d stepped in and that was it. Before he offered anything in thanks… before the hand job and before he’d sworn he’d never leave him.

He moved to allow Duo to get his shirt off and then felt hands at the already open jeans, a hand brushing over his cock that was beginning to respond. Maybe they came too quickly – part of the problem of being nineteen – but then their recovery times were impressive. Heero wriggled his hips to help remove his jeans, kicked off sneakers and felt Duo remove socks leaving him completely naked. He shifted back onto the bed, pushing away the duffle that fell to the floor, the bundles of cash and loose bills joining the weapon.

“No fair,” Heero said, repeating Duo’s own words as now he was naked and his lover was not – the tenting of boxers reminding him that he’d not come.

That could be remedied.

He grabbed at hips, impatiently removing the last strip of clothing between them and Duo kicked them off before returning to his position of straddling Heero. He felt unable to breathe for a moment, that it was too fucking intense, that _this_ was too much – but regained whatever brain cells he needed and pulled at the braid, wrapping it tight around his fist to bring Duo’s body in direct contact.

“Lube?”

Heero heard the words, felt them playing across his mouth but in their current tangle of limbs it seemed like it’d be hell to separate. Instead, he rolled them over, the sudden movement and force of it eliciting a murmured “fuck” from Duo’s lips as the positions were reversed and it allowed Heero to lean down to retrieve his jeans and find a tube without the total loss of bodily contact.

“Always prepared, ‘Ro?” Duo teased as Heero returned to his position directly on top, perfect alignment of bodies

He smirked. “Always have to be when you fucking tease me all day,” he said, opening the tube with practiced skill as tongues warred.

His fingers slid down, knowing the familiar pattern, the same routine – it was years since juvie – years since they’d first fucked in a filthy cleaning cupboard on some bullshit punishment thing they’d both been sent on – but it all still too good. Didn’t think he’d ever get enough as he slid one finger inside, feeling the hitch in breath in the kiss and Duo was always so responsive and it was always too much. Despite coming once, he was fully hard and didn’t think he’d last long – wanted it to be a memorable fuck, wanted to burn away the cash and the gun and the memories they kept running from and just wanted it to be Duo and Duo’s body and fuck all else.

Desperate for breath, their lips parted and Heero leaned his head downwards, and felt a hand stroke the back of his head then that hand clutched at his hair in a sudden spasm as he hit prostate and the desperate little moan made him aware that Duo would be fucking close too. And he inserted another finger, scissoring, stretching and preparing him with the care that contrasted against the violent life he’d led and the things that he’d done.

“Stop fucking around,” Duo said, breathy and he felt a hand pull up his head so that they made eye contact.

Duo would say something clever to that – he thought – something about how he’d be fucking him but Heero didn’t have that way with the words or those thought processes as he moved back onto his heels, and raised one leg over his shoulder, lapping a tongue against ankle before bringing the other around his waist and lubed his hard dick before beginning the slow push in.

Everything about their life was frantic and quick and violent. But this wasn’t going to be. Blue eyes squeezed shut as he focused on heat and the point of contact between bodies. Tried to control every instinct and the desire to just pound knowing Duo would take it rough and hard. Wanted it that way sometimes just as he did when they reversed positions when it was Duo’s cock up his ass and they were low on time or just too fucking horny for anything but he paused, enveloped in tightness and taking deep breaths maintaining some control.

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ…”

His eyes flipped open to see Duo underneath him – the sheen of sweat, the braid dishevelled, his own marks from the scraping of teeth and nails over his chest as though trying to erase those other marks. And he leaned forward, taking one more kiss from those lips, taking the “oh fucks” and the “shits” and “Heero’s” from them as he pulled out and then back in at a slow pace. He took it as slow as he could but soon felt Duo’s impatience, both legs now around his waist pulling him tighter in and the hips meeting his harder, the colliding of sweaty bodies increasing in pace till it would be over soon in a rush of cum.

Duo suddenly moved, he felt a push on his shoulders and his legs lowered, it stilled his thrusts, confused, as they were too _damn_ close and it was not the time to be fucking around in Duo’s words. It took a second to realise the intent as he slipped out, his cock burning in the air as he let hands and a strong body force him onto his back and could only look up and process the change in position as Duo lowered onto him and he let his hands drift to hips.

“Felt bad letting you do all the work…”

“Fuck,” was the only word Heero could manage as he felt deeper inside, so fucking deep and he could only lie back and let this happen – let Duo ride him and hold firmly onto hips to assist each thrust up and down, the braid brushing against the skin of his thighs.

 It didn’t need to last long now and he watched through lidded eyes as Duo’s hand deliberately made its way down to his own cock, dripping, and jerked off to the time of each downwards thrust. He reached up and wrapped his own hand around Duo’s, both of them bringing him to completion, thick cum splattering over hands and Heero’s chest and the deep groaned “Heero – fuck” and the head thrown back and the tightening around his own dick made him come, his hips twitching up.

If the blow job had taken time to come down from, the fuck took longer as Duo’s body relaxed onto his, the heavy breathing on his shoulder and the tongue that licked out to taste sweat being the only lifeline to reality as Heero felt the aftershocks of orgasm shuddering through him.

“Fuck, ‘Ro.”

He chuckled at the first words spoken – no comeback for it as it became apparent they were both damn sticky - sweat and cum starting to dry and Heero felt his cock slip out.

“Shit, think I need to tease you every fucking day… or maybe use the gun in every heist – you were somethin’ else…”

The reminder of the gun, Heero looked over to the floor to see the duffle and the bundles of cash and some of the loose bills spread out. They needed to count it and make sure none was left in the room in case any bills were traceable. His thoughts were interrupted.

“Stop thinking, Heero.”

“Yeah,” he answered, a slight distracted tone to his voice. He groaned as he moved. “Shower?”

“Naw, too fucking sleepy. Bed?”

He nodded and Duo managed to disentangle limbs enough to separate and Heero decided right now he didn’t give a shit about being covered in Duo’s cum or his own sweat – and moved to settle himself against the headboard of the bed, forgetting about the cash, and slid his legs into the thin rough sheets.

Heero watched through lazy eyes, open to slits, exhausted from fucking and coming twice in quick succession as Duo left the bed and reached for the bottle of Jack Daniels. He took a deep swig and passed it over and then he watched as Duo bent over, the image still erotic despite his exhaustion and saw him reach for his jeans. From its pocket, he got out the brown worn wallet, and Heero took a long drag from the bottle as Duo came back and sat alongside him, leaning his head against his sweaty shoulder.

He knew what he was doing. That stupid piece of a magazine. He watched as Duo opened it slowly, the image creased in four and it was white from the amount of times it had been damn folded in those creases. The picture of a beach, the sunset, cocktails – a million miles from the world they’d come from. Heero kissed his neck and looked at the picture.

“Tell me again.”

Duo’s body rumbled against his own, that small chuckle and he enjoyed the skin on skin contact now as much as their passionate fucking.

“You’re _so_ sick of this shit.”

“No. Tell me again.”

“This is where we’re going, babe, that we pull a few more jobs and we make some more dough… we keep travelling south and then we cross over the border…”

Heero made a low “hmm” in the back of his throat at the story, ran his hand over muscled thighs and buried his head against Duo’s shoulder.

“Then we get to Tijuana and we drink and we fuck and we smoke and we do whatever the fuck we want for a few weeks…”

“And then?”

“We travel to the coast and we put our toes in the ocean and it’s just you and me and nothin’ else. Forever. And it don’t matter all that shit that we left behind and it don’t matter all the things we done.”

Duo folded the picture up, putting it back in the wallet as though something sacred and it probably was – from that time before juvie, before they met  - and placed it on the table beside the bed.

“I like that story,” Heero said.

“Yeah, me too.”

They shared one more swig from the Jack Daniels bottle, a deep kiss, before turning off motel lights and lying down to sleep entangled in each other’s sweaty limbs. Heero felt Duo’s body relax against his own but he couldn’t sleep, instead stayed awake in the dark, running fingers lightly over his lovers back who probably dreamt about Mexico and beaches while he thought of ways to make sure they got there.

And finally, when he felt sleep start to claim him, he smiled against damp skin, his lips against Duo’s shoulders and murmured “forever” before letting himself relax into dreamless oblivion.

 

 


	2. End Transmission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you Google Chevy Camaro convertible you’ll find the car mentioned in this part of the fic.

**Part Two**

**Endless Transmission**

 

_~ Pull the top down, use your knees to drive._

_I'll make it worth your while just let me taste the sky._

_You pressed your mouth on mine and fed me a star_

_Then said "we never can truly know who we are."_

_Endless Transmission – AFI ~_

 

The black convertible was not the type of car they usually stole. It was flashy. Expensive. They usually stuck to hot-wiring older wrecks that they could drive to the next town and dump and burn without giving a shit. Cars that didn’t have value attached to them, that didn’t always get reported to the police and so it was easy, clean, and over quickly. This car – the Chevy Camaro convertible – newest damn model would be missed even as they drove away from the home of the asshole they’d been ripping off.

It had been a risky score from the beginning. Heero was more comfortable with the jobs he damn suggested, the small time diners and gas stations and convenience stores but Duo had a whole con going on and had worked it for a few weeks. A con that Heero had not been at all comfortable from the beginning but one that he went along with for this – for the car, for the cash, for some tech and old jewellery that could be sold for a few weeks’ worth of gas money and sleazy cheap motel cash. And this was what Duo was better at than him anyway, all those words and all that talk, those big eyes, those tight jeans and he’d hit his mark and his mark had responded as expected. It had only taken a few weeks of Duo being in that bar, a new tight shiny shirt clinging and jeans minus holes that they’d bought at an actual mall and Duo had told him it would be worth it. Told him with a deep kiss in the changing room and a hand down the front of Heero’s pants. It was difficult to argue with that. It was damn difficult to argue with the results. 

A rich long haired blonde guy drugged and left tied up on the bed and it would be hours before he woke up. Hours that would get them away, the GPS disabled and all trace of this car would be gone soon. It would be a shame to burn the thing but they couldn’t risk chop shops or selling it or anything as dumb as fuck as that. The parts of expensive cars had serial numbers, had identifiable parts that once the theft had got reported – once the guy had woken up and realised that his easy lay had fucked him – then the car would be the number one way of tracking them down. If the car was burnt then it may be recognisable but it wouldn’t trace to them. Or so Heero damn hoped. They were getting riskier, he knew that, escalating, wanting to make more cash and get nearer to that stupid dream of Mexico.

He looked over to Duo driving the convertible at a speed far exceeding the limit but the road was empty. The darkness of the middle of the night meant they saw the occasional trucker but nothing besides that. He tried to relax. Duo was always telling him that.

“Relax, the cops ain’t got nothing on us.”

Maybe they did. Maybe they didn’t but he figured that this couldn’t end well. He hid those thoughts when they clouded his mind, would look over at Duo’s eyes and forget and remember some damn optimism. Like now. They were on an empty highway in an incredible car, the top down, the stars above them and it was a million miles from the shit they’d come from. And maybe he fucking had indulged Duo with the car – knew that Duo liked cars as he’d had a habit of stealing them from a very young age and was a very accomplished driver despite not having a license but it was better than his mood in the recent weeks. Knew it was an anniversary of something. A death, whichever death, as they had too many significant deaths between them but that smile had seemed a bit damn forced and then the con had taken Duo’s mind away from him while he worked the tall long haired blonde but now – now, damn it, this was now time for them.

Heero reached over to touch Duo’s thigh, running his hand over black denim. The response to the contact was a jerk of the head and a curious look. It wasn’t like him to be reckless. He knew the speed they were driving and teasing was not in his usual activities. It was part of Duo’s whole fucking personality but not Heero’s so the light teasing touch wasn’t expected.

“Heero?”

Duo’s voice was cautious, quiet with the sound of the rushing scenery around them, as Heero leaned across the centre of the car, over the gear stick to run a tongue over his jaw and then whisper into his ear.

“Want you.”

He could feel Duo shiver at his touch and the words. It was always Duo that was vocal, that said what he wanted and talked all the damn time. Not Heero. So the words were damn effective. He’d always been taught not to say anything. Odin lived his life in fear of the past they’d run from all his young life – the life that meant they left Japan when his mother died, left Russia, England, found themselves in New York and then other cities until finally settling in the North West. And it was there that his past was never going to catch him up and Heero would say he was his father in public and nothing else. Silence was what he damn learnt. But Odin’s past had caught up with him. And a bullet to the head had been the price.

“Lemme pull over,” Duo said, his eyes drifting down to where Heero’s hand was resting on his thigh, fingertips teasing upwards and Heero glanced out to the abandoned road to see that there was no oncoming traffic before his hand reached groin and rubbed to feel a hardening dick.

Duo was fucking easy. It was the advantage of being young and wanting to take each other in like a drug whenever it was damn possible. And with the con, with the whole rich blonde guy, they’d not been as active. Casing his house, watching his security measures, following his movements and then striking – it had meant that they’d barely touched and to touch now was going to be too fucking much. Least Duo was an accomplished driver as even though his head went backwards into the headrest at the pressure over his cock, he’d not swerved and with a smirk Heero wondered if he could blow him and if Duo could keep that level of concentration but then erratic driving was not what they needed to be doing. Drawing attention to themselves was a bad move and the car was a damn mistake but if it was a mistake to take it, to drive in the darkness with stars above them, then they might as well enjoy the thing.

“Jesus… fuck…” he heard Duo say over the sound of the rushing wind as he continued stroking hard flesh through denim.

The car began to slow down, a sudden jerk of steering wheel that indicated they were pulling off the road. Duo had managed to maintain concentration to find a scenic pull off, the park benches that would provide cute families in RV’s places to picnic but that was the last thing on their minds as Duo braked a little too hard, the only indication that Heero’s touch had effected his driving skills.

“Stop,” Duo said, gripping Heero’s wrist tight, “unless all you’re intending is a hand job ‘cos fuck –“

The rest of his words were stalled as Heero’s head leaned in and took those moving lips, tilting his head, sliding a tongue into an already open mouth, the grip on his hand loosening but he didn’t continue his torturous rubbing through fucking jeans. He didn’t intend to just give Duo a hand job – wanted more than that – needed more than that. Needed to get rid of those barriers that had been there the last few weeks, the fact that Duo wouldn’t tell him which death or which shitty experience it was the anniversary of. Could be the death of the mother he barely remembered. Or could be some memory of that orphanage that he never said shit about, heard the rumours in juvie and knew what that meant – a few snide remarks about the priests and the boys but Duo never said anything about it and Heero never pushed. Or it could be when he was in the gangs, making his way, stealing cars and dealing before warfare erupted and he’d only remained alive by ending up in juvie. Ironic that being caught had saved his life.

He knew it wasn’t anywhere near the time they gave up on the “normal” life they’d been offered. The months where Duo had worked in a ratty diner, bussing tables as the old dude in shades who worked there took pity on him despite the record and Heero had managed to find some low level badly paying construction that was anonymous and paid in cash. And they’d had that one room apartment, where the bed was only an inch from the kitchenette and the bathroom was the size of a stamp and the shower had that weird rusty brown stain that was probably blood. The “psycho” shower as Duo called it, flippantly, finding humour in their situation as he always did.

It wasn’t when Heero got a stupid call on his cell as the hospital tried to find someone to sit with the bruised, beaten kid that was probably not going to see through the night. But they had too many anniversaries between them and he would erase whatever the fuck Duo was remembering with his tongue deep down his throat, with a hand returning to stroke and to move as close as he could in the confined space of the car.

They’d never fucked in a car before and the practicalities of the situation became apparent, that at least it was a convertible but there wasn’t a ton of space and the gear stick was sticking into his ribs as Heero leaned over, the kiss becoming sloppier and more impatient and then parting, a connection of saliva between them as they separated.

“You got a plan for this?” Duo asked, his tone breathy and he licked his lips.

“Switch seats.”

Duo raised his eyebrows confused but as Heero opened the door and stood, Duo slid himself into the passenger seat and then figured out his intention as Heero returned to the car, straddling him on the leather seat.

“More room on the passenger side,” Heero said simply.

“Always gotta be practical.”

Before Duo could make another smart ass comment, Heero returned to his lips and ground down into Duo’s body, creating hot friction in the cold night and he felt him grunt into his mouth at the pleasurable torture the movement was creating. But his own movements were stalled when fingers found his nipples underneath the thin t-shirt, the sharp pinch providing a moment of white hot pleasure that went down to his already growing erection. The pressure made him throw his head back a little, his hair in his eyes and his eyes closed as then he felt the shirt being pushed up and a tongue soothing the abused flesh.

“Fuck,” he muttered, feeling the hands now down his jeans, buttons miraculous undone and zipper down and he felt like he was losing control of the situation as Duo’s hand sought out his hard dick and he had intended that he was going to do this for Duo not the other damn way round.

His hands were harsh as he grabbed for wrists, pinning them down to the leather of the seat, his strength being superior and he felt Duo’s gasping breaths against his chest at the show of aggression through the thin t-shirt material that had slid back down after the attention caused to his abused nipples.

“The fuck, ‘Ro?”

The voice was angry but he released Duo’s left hand and used his own right to run his fingers over Duo’s chest, over the stupid shiny shirt and down to waist, further and then palming the hardness before deftly, with one hand, undoing button and pulling down zipper. Seeing the look in Duo’s eyes, the anger and confusion now faded, he released the other hand to help his task, pulling at tight jeans and grey boxer shorts so that his cock was released in the cold night air.

“Relax,” he said, a slight smirk on his lips as he repeated Duo’s words – those words he used so many times.

Relax the cops ain’t here. Relax this will work. Relax, Heero, stop thinking and now he was going to stop damn thinking. He wanted this now – the hard dick in his hand, the panting young man underneath him and the slight kink of sex under the stars in a stolen vehicle. Heero removed his hands momentarily, finding the damn lube he carried around in his pocket and pushed down his own jeans and underwear as best as he could in the confined space. It seemed Duo had finally caught on and understood his intention as he passed the small tube over and their eyes met.

“You want…?”

Duo’s voice was unsure in the darkness. It wasn’t that it didn’t happen but Heero knew he maintained control in this relationship or as much as it was possible with Duo. That he tended to be more dominant, that he was the one who did most of the fucking but there were times when he wanted to prove something to the man he’d promised they’d never be apart and it was them forever and this was one of those. Erase those damn memories. Fuck the anniversary.

“Yeah.”

He focused on blue eyes blinking in starlight at the first pressure of a finger, the touch for a second startling and unfamiliar but he tried to damn relax, horny as they were, as the slide of finger felt more than he could stand, biting his damn lip and Duo seemed to understand, his other hand reaching down to his cock, stroking languidly, fingertips feeling ever damn inch, to tip and collecting moisture that he found there. Duo then raised his finger to his lips, the flick of tongue erotic and the knowledge of what Duo was tasting being even more of turn on and he felt compelled to meet those lips again, taste the slight hint of salt in that mouth as another finger joined the first.

The feel of those fingers became too damn much, the third joining the other two and he found his body instinctively starting to rock back onto them, even as they tried to maintain the contact between lips as he felt the slick rhythm increase and his body craved more than those fingers – to be connected more intimately, Duo’s hard dick inside him like it hadn’t been for some time and to feel that movement inside him. He gasped, unable to help the noise, as he felt the hit of prostate and he thought he saw a different sort of stars than those above him in the night sky.

Those fingers continued that movement, Heero’s head falling forward onto the top of Duo’s, riding out the pleasure, feeling hot gasping breaths on his neck and the pleasure of being finger fucked but it wasn’t what he damn wanted or needed though he was sure it would bring him off. He tried to communicate his damn need but words were blurring, instead, he reached out for where Duo had discarded the lube onto the driver’s seat and found the cap awkwardly, opening it with shaking fingers as pleasure rippled through him again and he found Duo’s cock, spreading the sticky substance over it, feeling the moan of pleasure from his ministrations as fingers were removed and he changed his position in the awkward space, leaned back a little in order to feel the first press and the slide of hot hard flesh inside of him.

“Fuck… you’re tight…” Duo said as each inch entered him, the slow connection rippling through every nerve ending in Heero’s body.

He felt a hand grip his hips to assist, the other around his waist and they were both panting and sweaty in the cold night air as they were finally fully connected, Heero’s eyes closed tight as he focused on relaxing his body, feeling every inch of Duo inside him.

They stilled, bodies joined but barely wanting to move as there was something intense about this, about giving himself to Duo that he did so rarely – that he proved he gave up on some of his damn control, that they weren’t just lovers or something. Equals. Partners in every part of their lives and they belonged together whether like this or with Heero buried inside the braided young man. Fuck, whatever, it was good.

Blue eyes met and Heero moved a shaky hand to brush aside a bang of long hair from Duo’s sweaty forward. The moment of tenderness was broken by an experimental movement of hips and then Heero responded, moving his body down, trying to find a rhythm, both mostly dressed and in a stolen Chevy Convertible. It was like a wet dream. Porn. A fucking masturbation fantasy.

Their bodies clashed, colliding hard together, hips thrusting in counter rhythm and he could hear Duo’s litany of curses – always damn vocal during sex – but he just managed a few grunts, a couple of groans and a gasp as Duo’s cock brushed the spot inside him that made him shiver and body jerk. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck and he focussed only on the movement of his body, his eyes wide as a sticky hand found his own dick, the lubrication making each stroke quick and easing Duo’s hand.

He felt the stirring in his gut, each thrust inside and stroke bringing him closer to the edge and he felt Duo’s thrusts becoming less even, less in time, ragged as his own orgasm rapidly approached and their hips met, the position taking Duo deep and it was too fucking much and he felt his own cum spurt onto a hand and Duo’s chest and neck. The hips underneath him kept thrusting, even more wild and Heero could only slump and ride it out as Duo finally found his own pinnacle and came, hot and hard inside him, the sound of his name being spoken like a curse in the darkness.

A hand brushed aside the long hair around his face, a trace of stickiness on them forgotten and Heero experimentally moved, his limbs feeling strained due to the position and he rose himself off Duo, both groaning at the feeling of being apart after the intensity.

Heero opened the car door, rising to stand, and pulled up his jeans and boxers despite the stickiness and walked around the car to sit in the driver’s seat.

He heard Duo exhale deeply, not having moved at all. “What was that about ‘Ro?”

“You were remembering something…” Heero said, his hand reaching to his jaw and forcing his head to turn so that they were looking at each other.

“It ain’t somethin’ that needs talking about.”

Heero had expected that answer and he would never push. Never make him reveal everything. He’d not told Duo every shitty moment of his life. “Did you forget?”

Duo smirked and leaned over to meet Heero’s lips. “Yeah, you sure made me forget.” They kissed, deeply and only stopping when air became necessary. “But I am so fucking sticky… you kinda enjoyed yourself there.”

The shirt that he’d bought for the con was now pretty stained and Heero only shrugged, not apologising and started the car. “You might want to zip up.”

“Yeah, yeah, Yuy, you just drive me to a motel,” he said, grudgingly, though zipping up as he did.

As Heero drove, the air whipping through his hair, he glanced over at Duo, lost in his own thoughts and reached out a hand to twine fingers together, not caring for the stickiness or anything, just wanting the contact of skin.

“We’re getting closer,” Heero stated.

Closer to Mexico, closer to stop pulling risky jobs and even riskier cons and they just had to remember that. That they were so far away from where they came from. Both of them.

“Yeah, let’s keep goin’.”


	3. A Bar Room Brawl

**Part Three**

**A Bar Room Brawl**

 

_~ Love in Technicolor sprayed out on walls_

_Well, I've been pounding at the pavement till there's nothing at all_

_I got my cloak and dagger in a bar room brawl_

_See the local loves a fighter, loves a winner to fall_

_Underdog – Kasabian ~_

 

The bar was situated on the outskirts of the college town, a small lot outside it and a cheap diner and gas station next to it. It wasn't like the ones in town – loud, noisy, and full of young college kids drinking far beyond what they were capable of holding without throwing it back up. Heero didn't like crowded places – felt uncomfortable and suspicious and damn on edge. It wasn't just since they had become criminals, it was before that – Odin taught him a lot of things and one was the danger and advantages of a crowd. The advantages were anonymity – the power to blend in and not be noticeable or seen. Despite his somewhat striking features, the Oriental skin tone, his deep blue eyes, unruly hair – he knew how to not be looked at twice, a posture change, a downward glance, his voice now no longer carrying any hint of his birth – none of his mother. He was starting to forget the language. They'd left when he was five and he'd had to learn English.

He thought of how he knew how to blend in, drinking bottled beer as he wasn't trusting of the cleanliness of the glasses behind the bar and looked over to see Duo doing everything he fucking could to be noticeable – memorable. That was one of those things he'd said – fifteen and kneeling down, his hand at the base of Heero's cock.

"I'm the best you'll ever have."

And he was. Not that Heero had vast experience prior to that but enough to know that Duo knew what he was damn doing. Always had to be memorable. Unforgettable. He was sure even if they broke up, even if they got separated by time or jail or some unforeseen circumstance, that Duo would be the best he ever had. Heero just didn’t let him know that very often. He was cocky enough. And it didn’t matter as they would never be separated. Promised that long ago.

He glanced over from his bar stool, keeping a steady eye on Duo as he played pool, leaning over the table as he took a shot. It was difficult not to watch him – even though they fucked, sucked each other off and exchanged hand jobs on a regular basis, there were still times when Heero looked over and wondered how they'd ended up driving across state lines, screwing and stealing as they did. He supposed he just had to consider himself lucky or something. He didn’t tell Duo that either as he watched, keeping an eye on the locals, sure that Duo was something of a curiosity.

The braid always got attention. Then he had to dress in clothes so damn tight. Those particular thrift store jeans moulding to his body after years of wear, the t-shirt riding up his back as he leant over to take a shot, each movement seeming exaggerated as if Duo knew he was watching closely and was playing up his actions for Heero. It didn’t help the tight feeling in his own jeans and he tried to ignore the mounting sexual frustration. There was a part of him that just wanted to bail, drag Duo to the cheap motel across the lot, pay some bored looking employee and fuck him but then they were low on cash and this was one of the ways to score a quick few bucks. It just didn’t help that Duo looked far too fuckable doing it.

Duo had played it like he always did. Played a few regulars and evenly lost and won. He had to look good enough to be a challenge but not too good that his actual mark would consider him a true threat. It was irritating to Heero to see the last few twenties go on losing to some idiot even as he built up a small bar tab, making his own beer last and only buying one for Duo as a show. He’d pretty much sip at it all night, not wanting to actually consume any alcohol to risk diminishing his abilities at all.

Then he’d started chatting to the two guys at the pool table next to the one he’d been beaten on – young guys probably the same age as them and for a second Heero wondered why he’d picked them as his potential marks. Heero rejected them at first glance but Duo was always cleverer at this shit than he was and he’d seen more than what Heero had. The blonde guy was wearing frayed jeans, a shirt in a neutral tone and he seemed to be average, boring, not worth the effort. However, on closer inspection, the Rolex said a lot more, as did the fact that the jeans were distressed but it was clear that was the design rather than through constant wear. Heero could see that as he was beckoned over, now taking in the taller guy, wearing a t-shirt and jeans but there was an expensive looking leather belt that suggested a hint of money. Maybe a gift. He was more casual than the blonde, slumped his shoulders slightly as he stood, a bang of hair almost entirely obscuring one of his eyes and he seemed to be more suspicious of them both than the blonde who was already talking to Duo like they’d been friends for years.

“‘Ro, this is Quatre and Trowa – they’re both college guys. I was just telling them about our road trip, yanno, living the dream ‘n all.”

Heero looked at them both cautiously knowing Duo being damn Duo had given them their actual names and he wanted to drag him away to the bathroom to tell him he was being fucking irresponsible and then maybe suggest hand jobs or blowjobs or something for all his teasing earlier – all those coy looks over his shoulder, all that exaggerated bending, and hell that was before he considered the way his hand ran down the shaft of the pool cue. He knew he was being unsociable as he only inclined his head in greeting to them and may have muttered a “hey” underneath his breath but he wasn’t the sociable one. It was Duo’s damn idea to hustle pool to pick up a few bucks and it was not something that Heero joined in with.

He barely played – knew the concepts and could probably be pretty adept if he concentrated as he understood theoretically that it was about angles and trajectory and those were things he could understand but he wasn’t usually part of the hustle. And he didn’t want to fuck it up. He tried to communicate in a glare that he didn’t want to be involved in the whole con as he wasn’t a con man – he would be the brains, the cautious one, the planner – and Duo was all fly by the seat of his pants, improvise and figure it out as he went along.

“Thought we could play a few… but ‘Ro doesn’t play often so I gotta give him a few pointers…”

It seemed that Duo had him – he winked in his direction and knew he was lost as he had to play along with him and grunted in response, putting his drink down on the tall table to the side. He thought about telling Duo a million things, about telling him that they had to be more cautious and that these guys might remember them but then technically they weren’t doing anything illegal – they were just conning some people with money out of money with a little bet. It wasn’t like the car theft, the Noventa house, the convenience store hold ups with guns – it was all pretty innocent. And he could go along with it. For some time.

Duo gave him a smirk as he observed the slackening of Heero’s stance and the moment of the win. He walked towards him, offering him a cue which Heero accepted and watched as Duo set up a table, getting the previously sunk balls from the pockets and placing them within the triangle.

The other guys started playing on the other table giving Heero a moment to observe them and drag his attention away from the way Duo leaned over and the way he seemed to make it some kind of show unconsciously. Or maybe consciously. Heero was never quite sure. On completing the set-up, Duo stepped close, close enough to feel the heat of his body and his breath on his neck but not too obviously sexualised. The locals were suspicious enough and Heero really didn’t feel like making their sexuality an obvious thing and end up with local thugs on their asses.

“Play along, babe,” he said quietly, huskily. “You gonna play the tall guy. It’s the blonde who’s good but I’m better.”

“Sure,” Heero replied trying not to roll his eyes at the display of confidence.

“You remember how to play?”

It was now he actually did roll his eyes. Heero didn’t play often but he knew the game well enough and could remember enough. It was clear, looking over as the blonde broke and sunk a solid that he was the superior player and it took a fouled shot for the tall guy to even getting a chance which he missed. Heero took a sip of his beer and nodded realising that during Duo’s tutorial he had to pretend to be _really_ fucking bad and therefore give the pair the impression that he would be an easy win. It was humiliating to think he would have to pretend to be bad. Heero didn’t do being bad at things – strove academically if not orthodoxly, was fit and sporty and his skills with electronics far exceeded what they should be for an average nineteen year old. Normal nineteen year olds spent their time on laptops and cell phones blogging and Facebook and other shit – Heero disabled GPS’s on stolen cars and hacked into local police files to check the reporting of their crimes. Odin had always instructed him to be the best – that was the only reason Odin had survived long enough to die in the States rather than in all the countries they passed through until they settled and pretended. Before the shot to the head. Before everything.

Heero frowned at the memories and realised Duo was instructing him to break and he walked to the side of the table slowly, running his fingers over the wooden edges before he allowed Duo to show him the correct way to hold the cue. If he was going to be bad at this… well, he might as well be really bad.

“You gotta hold it like this,” Duo instructed, leaning to show how he did it and Heero mimicked – though incorrectly.

Duo sighed loudly, as though frustrated by his friend’s incompetence, and then came up behind him, leaning over Heero’s body and pressing his front to Heero’s back, the touch between them hot and electric.

The earlier teasing, those looks were what Heero blamed for the sudden heat in his groin, in the pit of his stomach. That usually he would be more controlled than this – yeah, they fucked occasionally in risky places – a convertible car on the side of the road, the bed of a rich couple, the dirty bathrooms of gas stations – but they usually had started something, built up to it but he was turned on already and somehow Duo knew that. His lips were at his ear, warm hot breath there, and Duo’s hands covered his own, positioning the cue in the correct place and moving his fingers so that they were ready to attempt to break.

“You get to fuck me later,” Duo whispered, “if you actually win some cash to pay for the motel.”

Then the body heat was off his back and he attempted to break but the shot was weak, the cue ball impacting with the triangle of coloured balls but not actually doing anything worthwhile apart from set Duo up for a couple of easy shots. He was irritated and half hard by the time he stood back up, glared at his lover for the tease and slunk to take a swig of his beer. It now seemed like a better idea to get some more beers as he downed the bottle, leaning a little against the table as he watched Duo sink a stripe and then another before missing one shot and shrugging at the miss. It was difficult for Heero to watch – the desire coursing through his skin and the heat of the bar – his mind was now directly in the gutter, thinking of fucking him across the pool table, sucking him off to hear the moans of pleasure and encouragement and he wanted that now rather than waiting until the motel – knowing that was impossible as they were not only in public but in a strange place and it would get them arrested for public indecency or something. However, it was difficult not to so he averted his eyes to the other guys’ game and managed to weakly hit a solid to look incompetent but not as incompetent as he had previously. It was not doing his ego much good to be this bad.

Duo didn’t cease his teasing, made a comment about balls in pockets, stroked the cue with a sly wink and even slipped out at his tongue at one point to lick at the wooden stick in his hand. It really wasn’t helping as Heero ordered another round of beers, offered to put them on the tab for the college guys as he had to have faith that Duo knew what the fuck he was doing and that the small amount of money spent would come back to them in kind when they won. It was all about the hustle. He had to remember that.

Both games completed, it clear that the blonde and Duo were superior players, the beers were shared out and Heero noticed Duo actually take a sip of his. He was obviously feeling damn confident, not that one beer would hit him, Heero knew from experience that Duo required a lot more than that to be incoherent, but that usually he wanted to have his “A Game” and that meant no illicit substances. Not even alcohol.

“You guys wanna make it more interesting?” Duo asked, placing his bottle down half drunk, briefly licking his lips in an unconscious tease.

“How interesting?” the blonde asked – Heero tried to remember the name as he really should remember shit like that.

It was one of Odin’s many rules. Always remember people – always assess their potential threat and potential usefulness. Tried to think what Odin would think of Duo – probably would be assessed as a threat or a weakness. A liability.

“Fifty bucks for the winner of each game. I’ll play you, ‘Ro will play Trowa.”

Heero tried not to scowl as they had barely over a hundred bucks left from the last job. Gas was not cheap. Motels were cheap but still cost fucking money. Then they had to eat. And they needed to dump the Buick parked outside as it guzzled gas like a motherfucker and they needed something else and something else meant finding somewhere else to steal a car from that wasn’t too fucking obvious. If they lost, if they both lost, they’d have no available cash but then Duo would turn it around and say if they both won they’d have an extra hundred dollars. He could already hear the damn argument if he took him to the bathroom, he gritted his jaw and looked over to the taller guy who now he knew was Trowa. Their eyes met and he realised that Trowa was nowhere near as trusting as his companion and didn’t really want to play this game with them. Shit.

“Make it a hundred,” the blonde said,

“Deal.”

Heero wanted to say no – that they couldn’t afford to damn lose to them and Duo was being an idiot. Yet two hundred dollars… easy money. That’s what Duo would say later if they won – back in a motel room, his body on top of his, his hips grinding slowly downwards and his lips teasing across his jaw and his cheek and his neck…

Instead, he agreed and let Trowa set up the table, observing the easily flowing conversation between Duo and the other guy. It would never stop making Heero feel uncomfortable how easily Duo could just talk to people, just start making conversation even if every other sentence was carefully spun bullshit. It was his thing that he didn’t outright lie but Duo was the master of deception, of concealment and he was doing that so damn convincingly. It had to be admired – how people could like him instantly – how he’d done the same to Heero despite all his reservations and his reticence and his attempts to protect himself. Fuck, he’d been lost from the moment he broke that other kid’s hand for the beat down in juvie. And Duo had only looked at him prior to that.

“You’re together.”

Heero blinked and looked up at the taller young man. The table was all set up, done while Heero had been watching Duo. It wasn’t a question but it wasn’t something that Heero felt comfortable responding to. Yeah, they were together but they could be homophobic idiots who’d beat the shit out of them for their sexual orientation. And Heero really didn’t want them to get into some kind of bar room brawl. Something that would get them reported to the police, something that would get some attention was exactly what they didn’t need – they just needed to get enough money to get a few towns over and then commit something more big time. They were getting closer to the border. Closer to the dream. Heero idly thought about bank jobs or taking down a store that would be actually worthwhile – a jewellery one or something but they were all relegated to thoughts – ideas, dreams.

“Yeah,” he said, finally, not sensing any threat. Maybe a hint of hostility but no threat.

“Me and Quatre…” Trowa said vaguely.

There was nothing more that needed to be said as at least Heero’s fear that the pair of them may be raging homophobes had gone. Now he just needed to focus on the hustle and beating the guy. Maybe they were too obvious. His eyes never seemed to leave Duo, Heero realised, especially in situations like this – yeah, he was aware he was over protective and over cautious and over whatever the fuck else and Duo was in no way weak… but damn. No one else had seen him after that attack. The attack on the way home, that bad part of town that they could afford that small apartment in, that little piece of a dream that they could have – wished it had just been a mugging but the police had pegged it as a hate crime. And maybe that made him too untrusting but his wariness had to balance out Duo’s faith in humanity – that despite the death of a drug addicted mother, the years he’d spent in an orphanage that was plagued with those rumours and then the gang that had been decimated by rivalry and bullets – Duo trusted and tried to believe in shit. And even after that beating, even after the respirator and the coma and the hospital, he still would just say “shhh” into Heero’s ear and “they ain’t gonna get me again.” It was fucked and it was hopeful. Just as his dream of Mexico and that beach was.

There was no more conversation – Heero glad of it as Trowa didn’t appear to be much of a talker. It also meant he could concentrate on what he was meant to be doing – and given the opportunity to break, he sunk a solid. He walked slowly around the table calculating the next shot, selecting his moves cautiously and only glancing towards Duo out of the corner of his eye. Duo had let Quatre break and was currently leaning on his cue and taking a sip of his beer as the blonde guy took a few shots, pocketing two balls until he fouled, which finally gave Duo an opportunity to play. It was then that the cocky smirk made an appearance on his face – he would probably try and win without giving his opponent another opportunity to get a shot. Heero had seen him do it before, fucked over older guys who would shout that they’d been played by some punk ass queer and nearly get his ass kicked for his usual response about being the damn best.

He heard a subtle cough and realised that his own opponent was getting impatient about his inaction. He selected a ball in his head, struck it accurately, the right amount of pace and the right kiss to the side of the purple solid into the right left and heard the whistle under the other man’s breath.

“Don’t play much?”

“I’m a quick learner and Duo’s a good teacher.”

Even though his comment was quiet, taking another shot, his eyes met Duo’s who gave him the slightest hint of that genuine smile reserved for only him before the grin slipped across his face. Yeah, Duo was a good teacher – taught him how to break into places with lock picks, how to convince people they were nothing more than good buddies travelling for shits and giggles, taught him to give better blowjobs and was teaching him to be ever so slightly less fucking paranoid. It was a work in progress but they were getting there. Somehow they were getting there.

As he sank another ball, it seemed that Trowa had figured out that maybe they had been played as he muttered under his breath something about “no one being that quick” and he began a systematic sweep of the table until he fouled, hitting none of his own balls, and nodded in Trowa’s direction to have his turn. It gave him an opportunity to see Duo had not won yet – that the black ball was the only ball in play and they were both trying to sink it or make it as difficult as possible for the other to do so. He gave him a pointed glare – wanted to communicate that he figured they needed to win soon and get outta the bar as putting Heero into the hustle had been a mistake if Trowa had figured some of Duo’s talk was bullshit and that Heero had been playing at being shit.

Trowa seemed a little better than he’d appeared when playing Quatre – he actually sank a ball before not hitting anything and ending his turn. It meant Heero could sink the final two balls before focusing on the black ball, carefully thinking about what he needed to do, which part of the ball he needed to hit in order for it to slide easily across the green fabric and into the left hand pocket. He zoned out a second, ignored the sound of the jukebox, the conversation between Duo and Quatre that indicated that Duo won and was trying his damndest not to gloat until he had the money in his hand and it all depended on him sinking his shot. It would even out if he lost and they’d just be calling it quits. And Heero didn’t quit. Instead, he called the left pocket and took the shot, the speed and angle making it slip perfectly in the called pocket.

He didn’t celebrate though he was tempted to just grab Duo and kiss him in front of the whole bar, shove him down against the table and release the fucking sexual tension he’d been building for however long they’d been in this shit hole. He didn’t, instead, realised that the situation was not quite as friendly as Duo had tried to make it.

“You played us,” Trowa said deliberately, slowly. He took a step towards Heero in some form of intimidation but Duo moved in front of him to try and stop Heero from acting but his words weren’t exactly helping the goddamn situation.

“Naw… we’re both just shit hot.”

This seemed to goad the guy more and Heero wrapped his hand around Duo’s wrist in an attempt to hold him back and prevent him from saying any more shit. It was a difficult task. He’d found the only effective method of shutting him the fuck up was either shoving his tongue or cock in his mouth and neither were an option in that situation

“Trowa… they won, it doesn’t matter…” Quatre said, his own hand on his partner’s arm as though he was trying the same tactic as Heero was attempting with Duo.

“No, Quatre, they were hustling us. People try to take advantage of you all the fucking time and you don’t even notice it.”

“Hey, buddy boy!” Duo shouted with some indignation. “We were just having a friendly game – _your_ sweetie decided to make it more interesting – it wasn’t us.”

“Duo…” Heero said eyeing up the owner behind the bar and the locals who seemed to be about to get involved or call the fucking police. “Let’s get out of here.”

“No, we won ‘Ro and it was a bet, you owe us two hundred bucks fair and square. You ain’t gonna tell me you had the balls to bet that and then not have the dick to follow through?”

The next few moments were a fucking blur. The punch to Duo’s face was quick, snapping his head back effectively but it seemed Trowa thought that Duo wouldn’t punch back. But Duo did, a low blow to the gut that then descended into kicks and jabs and rolling on the floor. It happened too damn quickly and it took a moment for Heero to do anything. He was still holding his cue and figured that he could use it as a weapon but that _really_ wasn’t a good idea and he could hear the start of the threats from the owner about calling the cops. He threw the cue to the floor and he was pulling Duo off the taller guy while they wrestled on the floor, punches flying.

In the scuffle, Heero almost ended up with an elbow in his face as he realised that Quatre was trying to do the same thing as finally they managed to pull them apart and to their feet.

“Outside or I’m callin’ the fuckin’ cops!”

The word cops filtered through Heero’s mind and that was shit they did not need. They had fake driver’s licenses, they had a car that was stolen and in that car they had an unlicensed firearm and multiple knives. They really didn’t need the threat of cops.

“Bail?” he heard Duo’s words and he didn’t answer, only touched his arm in acknowledgment and they were leaving the bar quickly – not paying their damn tab and only looking back once to see that Duo had inflicted a little damage. A thin trail of blood was coming out of the side of Trowa’s mouth.  It felt vaguely satisfying despite the fuck up the hustle had become. They were down cash and it had done nothing to get them enough money for a few nights in a motel.

Heero felt vaguely pissed as they walked into the night air and instead of walking straight to the car he grabbed hold of Duo a little forcefully, dragging him around the side of the bar to the alleyway between it and the diner, pushing him hard against the brickwork behind a dumpster out of sight of the lot and any passers-by.

He realised he should be really pissed – that Duo had been damn cocky and an ass and encouraged the near brawl and getting thrown outta the bar and that they had made themselves obvious but it was difficult to be as pissed as he wanted to be.

“Fuck, Duo.”

He wanted to say that it had been unbelievably reckless, that he encouraged Trowa to punch him but even pushing him against the wall had made him half hard again and Duo was hot, a little sweaty from his fight and breathing deeply and it was a fucking turn on.

“Fuck what, babe?”

“That was a fuck up.”

“You gonna punish me for it?”

The tone was teasing and a hand slid to the front of his jeans, caressing the hardness there and Heero threw caution to the damn wind and kissed him hard with angry bruising force, his tongue forcing its way into his mouth, tasting the beer and the taste that was uniquely Duo. His hands slid down to the front of Duo’s tight jeans, to the cock his mind had been distracted by and he parted the zipper, finding the soft fabric of boxer shorts underneath and his lips left Duo’s mouth to his ear and now Duo was no longer panting from the exertion of his little fight. Heero had been angry, pissed, but now his mind had other thoughts entirely. He thought of how Duo could be a fucking tease and smirked as he said five words guaranteed to make him shiver. He could play the teasing game when he wanted to and fuck, he could do it just as well – not exactly punishment but maybe getting damn fucking even and he was too damn horny. 

“I want to suck you.”

Duo blinked in the dim light but didn’t object to the offer. “No complaint here, ‘Ro…”

Heero slid to his knees, taking a moment to grind his own growing erection against Duo’s body before settling down on the hard asphalt. He felt a hand lodge itself into his messy hair, encouraging him to act but he took a moment, Duo’s cock still covered by the thin fabric, a hint of dampness there where even the words were enough to turn him on. Heero couldn’t help smirking at how much he could turn him on – Duo had teased him all night, all that bending, all that stroking of hard wood, all that swallowing around the head of a beer bottle and all he needed to do in return was say a few little words and Duo was compliant and wanting and begging for him.

“Please…” he heard Duo say, throaty, deep, needy and Heero relented, pushing down the boxers and releasing Duo’s hard dick, a hand at the base before he moved his mouth forward to lick lightly over the head. “Fuck!”

He heard the exclamation knowing it wouldn’t be the only one. Duo tried to encourage him forward but he ignored the hand in his hair. Instead he used the flat of his tongue down the underside, taking a moment on each inch, hearing the impatient pants and moans coming from Duo’s mouth even as he didn’t stop his current torment. There was a movement of hips and Heero retreated completely.

“My way. You fucked up tonight.”

“I didn’t fuck up… ah!”

Whatever the next few words that Duo had intended to say were stalled by Heero’s lips, opening and taking the head into his mouth, swirling his tongue around before bobbing his head forward a small amount and then moving back, only taking a few inches in before repeating the motion, slowly inching forward each time, taking more of Duo into his mouth, tasting more, feeling the fingers in hair loosen and tighten in rhythm with his own. Heero knew the tempo to take, using a hand to stroke where his mouth couldn’t reach, hearing each moan and “fuck yeah” and encouragement, turning him on and making him reach his hand down to his own cock, semi-hard all night now completely erect and demanding attention. He fumbled with his own zipper, moaning around the dick in his mouth at his own incompetence and then finally managed to reach inside his own jeans, quickly bringing himself out in the night air and wasting no time in building up a rhythm to match what his mouth was doing.

“Oh Jesus…” he heard Duo’s voice but he was concentrating on the flesh in his mouth, even as he felt a hand on his face. “Jerk yourself off for me.”

It made Heero want to smirk but he only glanced up, went a little further forward, taking as much as he could, not quite able to deep throat, not that it fucking mattered as he could make Duo come hard in his mouth from what he was doing and he knew that by touching himself he was turning him on more. When their positions were reversed, when Duo was going down on him, to see Duo jerk himself off as he was sucking him, it made him so fucking horny that it would be difficult to have any stamina. It just made it seem like there was nothing more pleasurable in the world that sucking his cock, no bigger turn on, and he could feel that Duo was struggling with his own need to come, his thighs tensing, his hand clutching tightly in Heero’s hair and he felt Duo start to slump back into the cold brick wall behind him.

Heero increased the pace on his own dick, unable to help the need for release, and hummed as he bobbed his head up and down until that peak had been reached and he pulled his head back so that he could taste his lover’s cum on his tongue. He didn’t immediately release him from his mouth, instead, he took a second to taste as he closed his eyes and with a few more firm strokes from base to tip, he was coming against the asphalt.

Finally, he moved back, swallowing the mix of his own saliva and cum though some still trailed down his mouth. Duo slumped down the wall, falling to a sitting position in front of him and didn’t move, neither of them did as the night air cooled down their hot bodies.

“Damn.”

Heero was sure it was a compliment and he shifted his body, his knees a little painful against the hard ground beneath them and met Duo’s lips with a kiss, sharing the flavour of cum between their mouths.

Once breathing became necessary and the fear of exposure and cops returned to Heero’s sex fogged brain, he rose to his feet, dragging Duo up with him and they both readjusted jeans and boxers. Unable to help the desire to touch him, Heero kissed him one more time, forgetting how pissed he was about his recklessness, his stupidity and the fact he’d fucked up what should’ve been an easy con. And they hadn’t won any money. It had pretty much been a wasted fucking evening. Well, apart from what had just happened.

“I’m still pissed at you,” Heero said firmly. “You fucked up.”

Duo only smirked and put a hand in his pocket. “Oh ye of little faith. I totally didn’t fuck up.”

Slim fingers held an item in front of his eyes – it was platinum and gold, the ticking could be heard in the quiet night and it was clear that it was real. The watch that had been on the blonde’s wrist. The watch that would be worth at least ten thousand dollars.

“The Rolex.”

“See, babe… totally wasn’t about the two hundred bucks…” he said, pushing himself off Heero’s firm body and starting to walk away towards the lot and the car. “Just gotta have a lil faith in me.”

Heero could only shake his head, unsure how the fuck he had pulled it off, and thought, maybe he was too cautious, maybe he was too damn overprotective of Duo and maybe he didn’t need to be.  And maybe he just needed some of Duo’s faith and dreams and belief that one day they would get over the border.


	4. Beautiful Thieves

**Chapter Four**

**Beautiful Thieves**

 

_~ Oh, if we run this light_

_Take a little life_

_No one will care at all_

_Oh, we can burn it and leave_

_For we are the beautiful thieves_

_No one suspects at all_

Beautiful Thieves – AFI _~_

 

The water was hot, almost on the side of being too damn hot as the shower spray harshly thudded against naked skin. Heero knew he'd been in there too long, his head bowed, one hand against the slick tiles but then he assumed Duo would think he was jacking off or something. Though if Duo thought he was doing that then he would at least have wanted to watch if not participate with firm strokes and crude words of encouragement that would make him come hard, panting.

He wasn't jerking off – not even half hard as water slid over his skin. He supposed he could say that he was enjoying the luxury of a decent supply of hot water in a shower that he assumed had never been infested with cockroaches or ants. They were at a hotel testing out the new fake ID's – the credit cards, the passports – the entirely new backgrounds and identities they had acquired that hadn't come cheap as they were at the final part of securing that dream of Mexico and beaches. They'd cost the Rolex money – or at least, ten thousand of it, the remaining few hundred bucks Duo insisted on using to test the new docs out on a chain hotel – not a fancy place but better than they usually stayed in with Heero's paranoia. Places with security cameras, that took credit card details at check in and asked for damn ID.

Duo had walked in with his usual bravado and confidence, got a room while Heero stood back and observed that there must be a conference in town due to the amount of businessmen and he'd held onto the duffle bag they carried tightly, conscious of the gun inside – illegally obtained and fired recently. 

It was the gun that was the reason he was standing in the shower, avoiding Duo. Fuck, he loved him with a fierceness that confused him – desire that hadn’t dampened down despite the fact it was over four years since they met in juvie. He wanted him, wanted the sexual release he’d offer without any protest, maybe wanted to forget what he’d done, but right now he wanted space. Wanted to be away from him, didn’t want soothing words and a sharp tongue and that confidence and belief that they were doing the right thing.

Right now he wanted to deal with what he’d done. Yeah, he’d fired a gun before. He’d been taught at a young age – certain when he looked back that Odin had been a hit man for the Russian mob – and he wasn’t afraid of guns. He supposed he had every reason to hate them, remembering what it was like to watch a bullet impact the head and the explosion of blood and bone that it produced. Being jerked out of bed in a tank top and shorts by rough men, dragging him to see Odin on his knees and the gun to his head and Odin silently nodding and trying to tell him through eye contact that everything would be okay. Or something. It was bullshit. It wasn’t okay. He’d watched and then they’d left him there with the body where he’d numbly tried to decide the best course of action until finally he extracted the cell phone from Odin’s jeans’ pocket, fumbling slightly at the close proximity to the corpse. He’d dialled a number, the only number he knew might help – the man only known as J and hours later a cleaning crew arrived. The body was moved, the blood was wiped away though the stains remained on the carpet for months and then they left him alone. He had a year. A year until he’d been stupid, beat that snot nosed shit who’d deserved the punch to the face. Maybe not the punch to the gut and then the kicks when he’d reached the ground but it had been a steady stream of abuse that had brought him to that moment.

He’d seen the damage that a gun did. And yet he still used one for the first time to actually harm someone. Heero hadn’t intended to. It was meant to be simple. They were low on cash after the purchase of the fake ID’s – those good enough to get them over the border – and he’d decided to scope out a small gas station surrounded by a whole heap of nothing. Duo was to play wheelman in the current stolen vehicle. It had been simple. He hadn’t expected the guy behind the counter to have a shotgun. And he hadn’t expected he’d need to fire his own weapon which he’d done with practised efficiency. He remembered Odin’s steady hand on his shoulder, his firm and reassuring words as he pointed the gun and fired once, low, avoiding major internal organs but disabling.

It had not been the first time he’d fired a gun in a heist. But it was the first time he’d shot someone. He’d completed the robbery, thrown the cash register to the floor and collected the money, kicked the shotgun out of reach and left the guy bleeding. It wasn’t a fatal wound, he reasoned, but then how long until someone came that way? Fuck. He didn’t want to think about it but then he was – standing in a shower trying to figure out how he felt.

If Odin was his father, which he never knew, then it would be following in his footsteps. Becoming a murderer, a killer – meaning if they ever got caught he’d be looking at a fuck ton of jail time. He’d take the jail time, take responsibility for the weapon, Duo wouldn’t take that… he’d make sure.

He realised his thoughts had spiralled. The guy was probably fine. He’d survive the wound and he’d got the money. He needed to relax and not think about it. Needed something…

As if sensing that something, he heard the door open, the bathroom clouded in a fog of steam after all his time stood in the shower.

“‘Ro,” he heard Duo’s voice but it sounded distant due to the shower spray. “You ain’t drowned in here?”

Heero looked over, his dark hair damp in his eyes, at Duo standing in the doorway in only boxers and a t-shirt. He’d left him sitting on the bed flicking through the larger variety of TV stations than their usual places allowed but now he’d obviously sensed something the fuck was up as he leaned against the wooden frame, his head cocked at an angle, his braid trailing downward towards the floor.

“You okay?”

He didn’t answer. He was okay. Yeah, he was always okay. Had to be okay as that was what he was told. That’s what Odin had tried to say silently across that room. Words clung in his throat and he could only shake his head a little. He didn’t know whether he was confirming or denying that he was okay but it didn’t matter either way as Duo climbed into the tub, the shower spray hitting him and he felt a hand on his jaw directing his face upwards to meet big blue eyes.

“Heero?”

He didn’t want to talk. Didn’t need to explain to Duo the fucked up thoughts about his past. Didn’t want to explain his fucked up relationship with the man who was his father if not in blood, then in everything else, and the reason he ended up juvie. Duo had asked once but Heero had said it didn’t matter and he didn’t want to go through it all. And he didn’t need to explain how he felt about firing a weapon with the intent to harm, how he felt about the blood trailing across the floor and the guy who could be dead now by his hand. 

“You’re thinking,” Duo said, his voice quiet against the sound of the shower spray. “Ya know it’s always been kinda dangerous.”

“Then make me stop.”

It was stupid. Duo was still half damn dressed as he stepped fully into the shower spray, the black t-shirt saturated in seconds and clinging to his skin tightly but Heero didn’t say shit as he leaned forward to meet Duo’s lips hard, their tongue clashing with open mouths. Maybe Duo understood his neediness, knew that he wouldn’t want slow and steady now, that he didn’t want fingertips and teasing, he wanted a body slammed tight against his own, wanted that mouth, those closed eyes, that thrusting tongue, those tight hands, that hard dick meeting his own and creating friction. He wanted to forget that he may or may have not killed someone.

It was meant to be fun, he remembered that, even as he ran a hand underneath wet, tight fabric. That’s what Duo had said – that they’d be outlaws, it’d be like some damn movie and that no one would ever get them – too young and pretty or something. It was meant to be easy, knocking over convenience stores, running Duo’s cons, and it wasn’t meant to be about guilt and fear and paranoia over the fucking cops. And he had to forget that, that paranoia, and he did the only way he could, by drowning himself in Duo’s body, in a hand at the base of the wet braid, threaded through it and pulling him close, in that mouth that promised pleasure, that body plastered tight to his own and rubbing against him, the wet fabric against his naked skin creating ripples of desire and want and need.

Even as he damn tried, underneath the hot shower spray, kisses becoming deeper, the friction between them becoming near unbearable, his thoughts still strayed.

Maybe the killer thing was in his blood. If Odin was his father, then he’d be the son of a hit man – a hit man that tried to protect him, tried to hide the bruised knuckles, the bloody clothing, the duffle bag with the tiny lock attached to it that he was forbidden to go near. And maybe he was a ticking time bomb – he’d attacked that trust fund kid at school for his fucking comments about ripping up the damn party invitation of some rich chick, he’d broken the hand of the ringleader Trant in juvie who’d tried to fuck around with Duo, and he’d stayed awake every night after the hospital kicked him out from Duo’s bedside, trying to find the strength not to go and find the fucks who did that to him – tried not to get a baseball bat and hit and hit and hit until blood flowed.

And he still wanted to. Go back and use whatever he could to do what they did to Duo to them as the piece of shit pro-bono lawyer did fuck all and the trial never happened because one of them had connections and a father or something. Though they couldn’t go back – he’d hacked the hospital records, creating a fake log of Duo’s medical insurance and made it look like his hospital bills were paid and if they went back… maybe it would all unravel. Maybe they’d get caught. Maybe they’d end up in jail and fuck if they were ending there. But if that man was dead…

He wanted to damn forget, drown himself in the water from the hot shower and Duo’s kiss but he felt Duo pull away, hands on his chest and then that body wasn’t against his.

“We ain’t fucking if you’re not even here.”

“I’m here,” he replied, reaching to touch the sodden boxer shorts, to touch the hard cock through them – the moan that answered his touch running through him.

He leaned forward to kiss at Duo’s neck, to run his tongue and lick up water from the shower along the column of his throat and scrape teeth and wring gasps of pain and pleasure but Duo stepped further back and stilled Heero’s hand through the wet fabric.

“No. We’re not fucking unless you tell me shit.”

Duo had never said “no” to him. Not like this when he was clearly hard and Heero was hard and all he wanted was him underneath him or pinned against some surface and to hear those words – the “fucks” and the “shits” and “Jesus Christ” and his name said with reverence as he fucked him. And it was a ridiculous situation. Heero naked under the shower spray, Duo standing at the other end of the tub in wet boxers and wet shirt and pissed looking.

“What if I killed the guy?” Heero asked quietly.

“You didn’t.”

“You don’t know.”

Duo stepped forward and Heero could see the water from the shower on his eyelashes and a flash of tenderness that was uncharacteristic. A hand brushed aside his bangs and then held onto his face, one hand on either of his cheeks. “We’ll burn the car. We’ll get rid of the gun. The guy’ll have phoned the cops. Someone will have gone for damn gas and he’ll be in hospital gettin’ patched up. You didn’t kill him, ‘Ro.”

It was a nice story. Just like the dream of Mexico – the nights in Tijuana and that beach and the life they’d lead where they drank and fucked and sat in the sun and he always wanted to believe in them. Believe in Duo. It was the only person he had left.

“I don’t want to stay here,” Heero said slowly, “we drive for a few more hours and burn the car.”

“Roger that,” Duo said, the sarcasm and the cocky grin sliding back into place and those hands left his face and Duo was moving to leave him in the damn shower again.

He didn’t want that. Maybe he’d be more comfortable in a piece of shit motel and the car in ashes and the gun wiped and untraceable and gone but they had time. Some time and they were here and he was still hard and naked, the desire of proximity still thrumming through his veins and he reached out and brought Duo forcefully to his body to kiss those smirking lips.

The slippery porcelain under their feet didn’t allow much purchase and the water got in their faces and between their hurried lips. Heero’s fingers slipped underneath the wet t-shirt, pushing it upwards, forcing them to part and Duo to raise his arms, the fabric tight and difficult to remove and it became tempting to rip it but Duo assisted, the shirt finally over his head and thudding wetly against the tub floor.

Duo quirked his head slightly. “Here?”

Heero thought about it, about the cramped space and the slipperiness and the way he wanted to fuck him hard and he shook his head and Duo stepped out over the tub, Heero following him, his hand fumbling to turn off the shower spray but not succeeding – instead it seemed to have turned the water temperature up and created even more steam in the space. In his haste to get to Duo’s body, to do what he needed to, to be lost in sex and in the one person that loved him and wanted him, he pushed him against the fake marble counter and the sink, slipping his hand underneath the boxer shorts and this time not being stopped as he stroked.

“Bed?”

Heero heard the word but his lips were on Duo’s shoulder, his hand tugging his cock and Duo was all he wanted and he wanted him now.

“No. Here,” he said against the damp skin as he reached for the waistband of those wet shorts, pulling them downwards and now they were both wet and naked, hot and hard.

He felt Duo’s hands against his back, the light scratches against his skin marking him as he thrust his hips against his, effectively trapping him against the hard cold surface behind him as he trailed his tongue back up from his shoulder to his jaw. Duo’s head was thrown back, his soaked braid falling downwards into the sink as he continued the rocking motion until it became too much and he didn’t want to come like this even though it would be satisfying. He fumbled for the small bottles of lotions and shampoos by the side of the sink, unable and unwilling to remove his body from Duo’s to go and find lube in their bag or in his jeans. It would be too long to be apart even if it was only a few fucking seconds.

They had stilled completely against each other, panting, the heat of the bathroom and the steam making skin slick. Heero ran a hand up to move the bangs that nearly covered Duo’s eyes to the side carefully before stepping back only a few inches to allow him to move and turn his body ‘round, Heero not having to make his intentions clear, and it was then he saw the large fogged mirror in front of them. Duo leaned his body forward against the sink and swiped at the condensation on the glass, the image of them was ever so blurry, little beads of water distorting it, but despite that and Duo having his back to Heero, their eyes could meet through the glass.

It was something they’d never fucking done. Yeah, he’d seen Duo’s face during sex face to face but he’d never seen what they looked like together. It made him think they needed to try a camera or something. A home movie but it seriously wasn’t the time for those thoughts as Duo spoke.

“You just gonna stand there?”

 

He didn’t answer, instead, chuckled low and opened one of the bottles and coated fingers with the slippery substance before sliding his fingers down Duo’s back building anticipation again until he reached his destination, one finger slowly entering. He used the other hand to move over the pale skin of his sides, of his shoulders, watching in the mirror the facial expressions on his lover’s face as he moved one finger to the first knuckle and then moved it in and out gradually building up a rhythm until he slid it further inside.

Duo’s knuckles were white against the edge of the fake marble and Heero saw either a bead of sweat or some of the water from the shower slide down the back of his neck from underneath his braid and leaned forward, licking at it – a sensitive spot that he knew Duo would respond to, a thrust of hips forwards as Heero continued his finger’s movement.

This was how he could damn forget, Heero knew, as he added another finger, the answering moan and impatient pants making him forget about everything but Duo. It didn’t matter that he’d used the gun – he wasn’t going to become a killer. It had been necessary. Necessary for this – for their future, for them to get away and leave every bad memory and every fucked up thought. Duo’s hand swiped at the glass again, the condensation from the shower or from the heat of their bodies making it foggy again and he felt compelled to lean downwards, another finger now working inside, and kiss awkwardly at his cheek, Duo turning his face to meet his lips sloppily, Heero catching words in his mouth and knowing that he was the only one who could inspire those feelings in the man underneath him.

He couldn’t help glancing at the mirror versions of them as he moved back to standing behind, sliding a hand down Duo’s sides and feeling the sweat and water as he removed fingers and used more of the lotion on his hard dick, the pressure of his own hand sending shock waves through him and making it evident he wasn’t going to last long. There had been too much damn build up. He thought this was going to be a quick hard fuck but it had changed as he began the slow slide into heat, trying to keep his eyes open to see the expression on Duo’s face through glass, the way their skin contrasted as they became connected in the most primal fucking way.

Heero stopped half way, experimentally moving his hips in increments, letting Duo’s become used to the feeling – it was a familiar feeling but Heero never wanted to cause him pain and as much as he wanted to snap his hips back sharply, he took deep breaths and ran fingertips down Duo’s spine, tracing a few scars gently from what must’ve been a damn knuckle duster or from rings or something until he felt Duo relax back into him, pushing backwards, making Heero’s eyes flutter closed and his body respond.

It was the easiest thing in their lives. The only part that was damn easy and didn’t come attached to the threat of being caught or the chance that somehow everything could get fucked up. It was the only thing that was damn near perfect. Heero grabbed at Duo’s hips, steadying him as he started to thrust his dick in and then back, stopping Duo from colliding into the fake marble and making him stay close, making Heero go deep with each forward movement.

A part of him wanted to watch in the mirror but he couldn’t, his eyes kept closing at the intense feeling of pleasure, the way Duo slid against his skin, the way he could feel his cock inside that body being gripped and caressed and the way Duo said all those things that made him lose whatever self-control he had. That he was good, that he felt good, that he could go deeper, harder, faster and Duo would take it all – take away all those bad memories and replace them with something better. And he knew that he was reaching climax, that his balls were tightening, that Duo was shuddering with each contact of Heero’s hip to ass, that he was hitting prostate with every other hard thrust and he brought his hand round – Duo unable to jerk himself off as now he was holding on so damn tight to the bathroom counter edge as though trying to anchor himself and Heero reached and took his cock in his hand. He knew how Duo liked to be damn touched, how he liked to be sucked, how he liked to fuck him and he used that knowledge, the hard flesh in his hands slippery already from pre-cum or the water from the shower or the dripping condensation in the air and he stroked firmly, his thumb playing around the slit and repeating that as he could barely keep up the rhythm of his hips, each time he pounded forward became less assured until finally he couldn’t take anymore as he felt hot cum on his hand and he drove his hips as deeply forward as he could, the repeated use of the word “fuck” being his damn undoing even as he felt spasms around his dick.

His release felt intense, hot, white, electric – words seemed pretty damn useless and he knew he only said one as he came.

“Duo.”

The world became hazy for a moment, his legs barely able to hold him and he heard the pounding noise of rain and felt confused. It took a moment to remember that the shower was still on and they were in a hotel room and the haziness was the steam and the distortion of their reflections in the mirror in front of him. It took another to realise they both were in danger of falling to the damn floor and Heero moved back, slipping out of Duo’s body and allowed him to move from what had been a pretty awkward position and turned to face him.

Duo leaned back against the counter and beckoned Heero towards him, to bring their bodies back together for a languid kiss with open mouths and lazy tongues that said nothing about desire but all about being sated, satisfied.

“Did I stop ya thinking?” Duo asked, his hands now idly tracing patterns in the sweat on Heero’s back.

“Yeah. You always do.”

He had. And for a few brief minutes, he’d forgotten about the guy bleeding out and the gun and Odin. Heero knew he’d remember – knew when cum was washed away, when they left the damp steamy bathroom, when they were dressed and leaving this hotel, he’d start thinking again but right now, he had Duo’s body against his and it felt good and it was better than any other feeling he’d ever had.

“No more thinking that shit, ‘Ro. Promise?”

“Yeah. Promise.”


	5. Save Yourself, I'll Hold Them Back

**Part Five**

**Save Yourself, I’ll Hold them Back**

 

_~ You're the broken glass in the morning light_

_Be a burning star if it takes all night_

_So just save yourself and I'll hold them back tonight_

_My Chemical Romance – Save Yourself, I’ll Hold them Back ~_

 

The light was beginning to fade as Heero stood leaning against the silver SUV, his arms folded across his chest and he was damn waiting. He assumed when Duo walked out of the motel room, he’d turn up. They’d done this shit before. That Duo had walked out, left the motel for a while and went to cool down. Yet he always returned within an hour or so. This was three hours. And the day was nearly over and tonight was the night they were knocking off the jewellery store – the store and the plan that was the fucking reason that Duo was not with him and had gone fuck knew where.

Heero had no way of finding him. They didn’t have cell phones unlike their teenage peers. They didn’t Facebook or blog or whatever shit normal nineteen year olds did. Cell phones were traceable and despite the fact they could occasionally pick up pre-paid’s and dump them, Heero didn’t like the idea of any electronic contact between them. As Duo said, he was damn paranoid but that’s how they’d gotten so far. That’s how they’d not been caught and they’d not ended up in jail.

He probably deserved the walk out. Duo always said relax. It was the word he damn hated but he couldn’t relax even after he knew everything about the damn jewellery store they were stealing from. They’d cased it earlier in the week.

The store was located on a road in the middle of their current small town surrounded by other non-descript stores – a deli next to it on one side, a book store on the other. It was called Zodiac for some reason and Heero had selected it as it was a small time place that had enough value to make it worthwhile for them to take down. They couldn’t risk a multinational chain store, those had enhanced security, those had too many risks attached whereas this place only had the security cameras and the alarm he knew how to bypass. It was pretty simple. It made him wonder why no one had ever taken it down before when they’d visited to scope it out.

As always, he’d let Duo do the damn talking as they approached the counter, the glittering rings and necklaces and whatever the fuck else glinting through the glass case. The woman behind the counter looked at them suspiciously – not that Heero could blame her with their frayed clothing and the way they looked. Heero looked back at her, assessing that suspicion and whether it would cause them any potential trouble as she watched them through a bang of dark hair. Duo gave her a grin and put an arm around Heero’s shoulder, the contact making him awkward for one moment as they really didn’t tend to do public displays of affection. Subtle looks. Subtle touches but nothing that betrayed the physical intimacy between them, all the fucking. But here, Duo had his arm around his shoulder and it felt damn confusing. Or it did until Duo began talking.

“This is my buddy, he’s gonna propose to his girl but she’s _so_ freaking demanding that we need some help…”

Within minutes, there was a whole story of a pretty blonde chick with a dad who disapproved and how Heero had to make a damn good impression with the ring if the girl was going to say yes. It seemed that the story worked on the dark haired woman behind the counter, as now she was bringing out a series of rings from behind the glass and asking Heero all sorts of random questions about his imagined fiancée to be and he let Duo answer most of them.

“He’s just not a talker… ya know, Lu, and he’s really gotta impress with the ring otherwise he won’t stand a chance…”

It had taken Duo all of five minutes to get the woman’s name and all of five minutes more for him to have separated from Heero to look at the rings and begin joking that it was him that should be marrying the chick with all the interest that Heero had for ring shopping. He realised what Duo was doing, giving Heero chance to take in the security cameras, the security system and memorise his actions for the night they’d come back to rob the place.

Had to admire that. That Duo always managed to figure out what Heero needed to do – that he needed some time to analyse and assess how they could complete the job with minimal distraction. That he needed to zone out of the conversation about princess cut and carats and shit he didn’t understand to think about the alarm system.

Twenty minutes later, they’d left, no ring purchased but Heero had a complete plan in his head and Duo had managed to convince the woman completely that he was nothing more than young and in love and shy. It was quite incredible how he did that – did that by being charming and funny and everything that Heero wasn’t.

Thinking about it now, standing alone in a motel parking lot, he saw how it proved that Duo was everything he damn wasn’t. The extrovert, the one who hoped and dreamed, the one who laughed and smiled and so many other things… And fuck, he’d not thought about it but now that they were close, now that they were nearly at the border and the life they’d dreamed about for all this time, he found it difficult to understand why Duo would want to share it with him.

Duo could have anyone. And he chose _him._ And it couldn’t be all due to the damn time in juvie where he’d broken Trant’s hand. It was that doubt that was probably the reason he was standing alone. Those dark thoughts.

Maybe this afternoon proved that they wouldn’t damn survive after it was done. Maybe they were too damn different, Heero thought, as he reached into the pocket of his jeans, bringing out the stupid piece of paper from that magazine from years ago.

It had been crumpled and thrown at him. He guessed he deserved that. That Duo was distracting him, telling him that they’d done everything they needed to – they knew what they were doing and Heero did not need to sit with plans of the building he’d acquired illegally online from town records or that he did not need to look at how to disable the security system to the cabinets as he’d already done that so many times. No, he didn’t need to but he wanted to be prepared – wanted to be ready for every eventuality.  

He looked at the image on the piece of paper and wanted to know the thing he’d never asked Duo. Yeah, he’d been fucking him since they were fifteen, he’d loved him since then or maybe it took until the hospital and sitting beside that bed for it to become love but he’d never asked why this was his dream. That it was a piece of advertising from some women’s magazine, a beach side vacation with palm trees and two sun loungers and brightly coloured cocktails on a table in between them looking out over the sunset. It had said something to Duo – said enough for him to begin this life of crime with Heero and for it to be the goal. He’d just never asked damn why. And he knew it hurt Duo when he said that he thought they’d never make it – that Mexico was a fucking dream and that Duo was delusional for thinking that they would get there. That there was a border and they had those fake ID’s but they’d get caught and everything wouldn’t matter.

“If it’s all so fucking _stupid_ and I’m so fucking _delusional_ – why the fuck have we been doing this?” Duo had shouted. “We could’ve just stayed and I coulda bussed damn tables and earned fucking nothin’ and you coulda worked construction and we coulda seen those assholes who tried to kill me every fucking day!”

Heero heard the way his voice went louder and tried to step forward and grab hold of him but Duo was shaking his head and he reached for his wallet – bringing out that piece of faded paper.

“Fuck you, Heero.”

He’d balled it up and thrown it at him – not intending to cause any physical damage but instead, it bounced off Heero’s chest and ended up on the floor between them, broken, creased, damaged – that dream that they’d had – that they’d always meant to have now discarded on the floor. And Duo had walked out of the shitty motel room, slamming the door, without a key, without anything but that wallet, empty of the piece of paper that Heero now held in his hand.

He should’ve said, “don’t go.” He should’ve said it was just his own pessimism. Explained to Duo that his life had been one moment of things going wrong after another as Duo could then understand – could understand that Odin had taught him that life wasn’t fair. That things would never work out for him – that the only end game he saw of this whole life they’d lived – the sex, the drinking, the cons, the heists and the playing on the edge of the knife blade – would be jail for one or both of them. They’d said death by cop a long time ago, if shit really hit the fan, but Heero knew the reality was more that they’d end up behind bars.

Heero contemplated his actions as he stood in the night air – he could take the store down by himself but the thought created a pain in his chest that was entirely unfamiliar. That the thought of Duo not being beside him physically made something ache. And all he wanted was Duo there beside him, his easy smile, those blue eyes, the hand on the small of his back reassuring and firm – the one constant in his life and the one person he’d ever had faith in. It seemed maybe wishful thinking worked or maybe it was just time. He wasn’t sure but he couldn’t help the feeling of his heart beating faster as he saw the familiar walk, the familiar slight movement of hips with every stride that was just as distinctive to Heero as his braid.

“You came back,” he said quietly as Duo joined him in front of the car.

Duo had his hands in the pockets of his jeans and rocked awkwardly on his heels, one hand then went behind the back of his head, scratching underneath the braid, some kind of nervous tick.

“Well… gotta keep you outta trouble, I guess.”

“I didn’t mean – ”

“Naw, don’t. You kinda did and I guess I shoulda worked it out sooner.”

Duo looked away and Heero looked down at the piece of paper as though it would repair what he’d said. That the small piece of bad advertising could be the dream again.

“Duo…” he began to speak but the words would not form on his tongue, on his lips.

As nothing came out, Duo sighed and the sound seemed loud in the abandoned parking lot – the sound from the nearby highway distant and indistinct and the sounds from the rooms vague. It felt like they were only ones in the damn world, in this stupid parking lot, and that nothing else mattered.

“Ya know, I just wanna know – why did you bother doing all this shit if you never believed we were gonna make it?”

Blue eyes blinked at the question, unsure of how to answer – he’d given up any chance of a potential normal life all those months ago to follow some idea of a beach in Mexico – he’d done so much for that symbolic piece of paper in his hand and he looked at it one more time before turning his gaze entirely on Duo’s face and returning it to his pocket.

“Because of you.” He reached out and wrapped his hand around Duo’s wrist tighter than he meant to but Duo didn’t make a sound of protest or indicate that it caused him any pain.  “Because you believed we would.”

“Fuck, ‘Ro,” Duo said quietly, raising one hand to Heero’s face and touching his jaw gently. “You sure as shit put a lotta faith in my stupid idea.”

“It was worth it.”

Despite the fact the lot was empty and it was entirely unlikely that anyone would look out at the exact moment that their lips met, Heero hesitated even as their lips connected more chastely than their usual hasty moments of sexual tension. Sensing his reticence, he felt lips leave his own and Duo cocked his head in a moment of confusion.

“We have the motel room until tomorrow morning,” Heero said.

There didn’t need to be anymore words, instead, he let go of Duo’s wrist, checked the silver car was locked and they walked back towards the room they’d stayed in for the last few days. Heero had cleared the motel room in Duo’s absence, all traces of them ever having been there locked away in the car and ready to move on from another small town, another cheap motel room with yellow bed sheets and bad carpeting with undefinable stains.  

It was unhurried between them as they stepped through the door, locking it behind them. Heero was unable to define why it took time for them to be naked, jeans and t-shirts thrown to the floor and stripped slowly off sweaty skin until they were rolling slowly against the rough sheets, the friction between them a sweet torture and lips hardly leaving lips and hands connected.

They’d never argued like that before – they’d disagreed and fought but nothing like that. And Heero had never told Duo explicitly that he did everything for him and while it was not some declaration of love wrapped up in bows with a princess cut engagement ring, it was something and it made him hold on tighter.

When it came to that moment, the question wasn’t about who was dominating who and when Duo slid into him, it felt different than any other time, the slow, sure movements of Duo’s hips meeting his own, and it took more time than it usually did despite the frequency of their fucking.  It was difficult not to reach out and touch every available patch of skin, wrapping the braid around his hand, demanding closeness after that argument – wanted to confirm that he had faith in Duo – that he was the only solid thing in his life and he could believe because he _had_ to believe.

“Fuck,” Duo said, his head now down onto Heero’s chest as his hips continued moving, his pace having increased and Heero’s hands gripping tightly to his shoulders, nails digging in over the already scarred skin. His own fingernails marking him as their bodies moved together with more force, Heero meeting Duo’s hips every time, that hard cock hitting his prostate, Heero’s own dick sliding over firm abdominal muscles and the friction of it bringing him to close to coming.

Duo raised himself back up and Heero used his legs, wrapping them tightly around his waist, and it felt deep and good, until his own hand reached down to wrap around his dick, replaced by Duo’s before he could even start jerking himself off. He felt Duo come inside him, the hand stopping for a moment distracted by orgasm and then continuing each slick stroke until Heero came, hard, panting, Duo falling down onto his body and stayed there for what seemed like eternity.

It was fully dark by the time they separated, showered, dressed in clothes no longer covered in sweat and were leaving the motel room. For a moment Heero stalled in the doorway of yet another cheap motel room, another place they’d stayed and left, before he turned off the light, leaving crumpled bed sheets and wet towels and no other markers that they’d ever been there. He wasn’t damn sure why the thought made him melancholy, why they’d fucked like they had, but even as he drove to the town to lie in wait for the middle of the night, he wasn’t quite sure.

Maybe as it was the last job – the last time they were meant to do this and there was a weird sense of regret and there was the fear of it being over. At having enough money, of making it over the border, of beginning that new life that maybe they could have but as they waited in the car for three a.m. it felt like something was ending.

Finally, three o’clock came ‘round on the glowing clock between them and he reached over to touch Duo who’d fallen asleep some time ago. A part of him wanted to leave him in the SUV, that Heero would do it alone as this was the riskiest of all their jobs. This had security cameras. It was located in the centre of the small town. There was the potential for it to all fall down like a house of cards but he needed him – needed his expertise, needed more than that – wanted him there beside him as he gently reached out to wake him.

There was nothing really left to say so instead, Heero leaned over in the car, kissing him hard, Duo reciprocating, tongue sliding into his mouth, for a second forgetting everything in the world and wanting nothing more than to return to that motel room and fuck him all night but they moved apart.

“Stop thinking, ‘Ro,” Duo said, a slight quirk of his lips, repeating those words he said so many damn times.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Always, babe. Always.”

Heero reached for the bag in the back of the car and grabbed the duffle as Duo shoved his braid down the back of his hoodie before pulling up the hood to obscure some of his face for the cameras. The cameras would not be on long enough for anything to be seen – they were going to be shot out and Heero passed over a newly acquired gun to Duo as he felt for his own sleek weapon. They’d blow out two each before any useful images could be obtained.

Duo knew guns – he’d been part of that damn gang – and when they’d first got a gun for their heists, Heero had taken him to shoot tin cans off the side of a highway. He’d expected that he didn’t know how to fire properly. He’d not expected him to fire straight and hit all but one. Duo had just given him a cocky grin, clipped the safety back on and twirled the weapon around his finger.

“Ya know, I’m pretty much awesome at everything,” he’d said and reached over, his fingers threading through the hair at the back of Heero’s head and bringing him to meet his lips, the gun held against Heero’s back, the harsh cold metal felt even through the thin fabric of cotton.

The memory suddenly felt like a mockery as they exited the car, leaving the engine running for a quick getaway and walked across the street to the store, the sign ‘Zodiac’ faded, and Heero looked cautiously around their location. Things had to be quick. Thankfully, Duo had spent his childhood breaking and entering – one of his more minor offences on the long rap sheet that was his juvie record – and Heero stood, securing the hood tightly around his own face as Duo knelt by the door – an old-fashioned lock, not difficult to pick and it was soon released, the door opening and the only hint of satisfaction was the smirk on Duo’s face. It wasn’t the time for witty comments, instead, only a wave of a hand that indicated “after you.” And Heero followed, entering the jewellery store and raising his gun to take out one camera, the noise loud in the small space and accompanied by Duo doing the same – shooting out the other angle and turning until all four in the main store were nothing more than useless cases of plastic.

It was then Heero approached the alarm system on the wall, the constant green light bright, and skilfully opened the metal panelling, quickly disabling the system by cutting wires quickly, the small tool kit of screwdriver and wire cutters making short work of the system.

“Now,” Heero said and the only answer was the smashing of glass as the cabinets were broken by the butt of a gun.

The cash register was not their intention, it was the contents of the glass displays – all those diamonds and gold, silver and platinum – that they were interested in. It would take some time, a few towns further south and they’d find someone to sell to but it didn’t matter – knocking out glass and putting the contents into the black duffle bag as quickly as possible, not looking at each other, instead just completing the task. The only sound was the clink of broken glass under sneakers and the movement of the jewellery being put in the bag. Heero felt like he could hear the sound of his own heartbeat, his own heavy breathing – wanting it to be over quicker but knowing in order to get anywhere near the dream of Mexico this had to be the last damn heist and that meant taking as much as possible. Enough to sell and start that new life.

A wailing sound broke through the silence of the night and it startled him, making him stand straight and listen closely, realising suddenly what it was. This wasn’t the bad neighbourhood that they’d lived in before Duo got the shit beaten out of him. It wasn’t where they laid in bed and listened to the sirens and the gunshots, wrapped around each other for warmth in that uncomfortable, small bed. There weren’t meant to be fucking cops.

Duo had stopped his movements, their eyes met across the dark expanse of the store and Heero spoke. 

“Duo… Go. Take my gun and go.”

The sound of the cop cars had become louder – of course, maybe that was why nobody had tried this shit before. That maybe the alarm system that was visible was easy, old fashioned and damn antiquated but then Heero saw a red blinking light hidden behind the counter – a silent alarm that he’d not been aware of. The silent alarm that had alerted the cops the moment they’d stepped through the door. Fuck.

Duo stalled, blinked and looked at Heero even as the noise of the approaching sirens got louder. He took the gun Heero thrust in his hand automatically, his own secured in his back jean pocket but he hadn’t damn moved.

“No. We go together, you fucking idiot!”

“No, get out of here. Drop the gun, drive the car, burn it and get out of here,” Heero said, his voice sounding like he was giving out orders.

“The fuck? I am not leaving you here, ‘Ro.”

“If we go together then they’ll catch us. If I’m here alone, they’ll arrest me and you can get away.”

Duo shook his head, a look of pure stubbornness on his face and he reached out to touch Heero but he flinched from it knowing that even a moment of physical contact would be torture now. That there was no time.

“Go,” he said firmly.

“No! You said we’d go down together, asshole.”

“I can deal with prison. You can’t,” he said, hating himself for the harsh truth and the look on Duo’s face at the suggestion. It had been a damn joke – that Duo was too pretty for prison but that’s why he’d taken the shit in juvie. The hair had made him a damn target. That’s why it had all started. “Now go.”

“Heero…”

“Damn it, go!”

Heero looked down the street through the glass, felt like he could see the flashing lights approaching and the moment Duo took hold of his head surprised him – the feeling of his hand at the back of his neck and the contact of lips – automatically closing his eyes, hearing whispered words against his dry lips. And then the feeling was gone and Duo was running towards the car and he was watching Duo go – watching the stupid silver SUV – and made a plan in the short time it would take until the cops arrived to arrest him.

He attempted to run, he wasn’t that fucking stupid to just stay where he was, and ran through the streets he didn’t know. Running in the opposite direction to where Duo had driven off – had to stall and give him time. When the cops got him, pushed him hard against the harsh brickwork of a wall and cuffed him, they found the only thing that remained in his pockets – the image of that advertising thing, the beach in Mexico, and all he could do was damn hope and have faith in Duo.

He hoped that Duo would get away, that somehow he’d get that dream, thinking about it as they pushed his head down hard and forced him into the back of the cop car.

Heero wanted to touch his lips, the ghost of that last kiss still felt against his, and he wanted to reach out and feel those words but couldn’t due to the damn cuffs around his wrists. The words echoed in his head, quiet and subdued as he was driven away.

“I love you, ‘Ro.”

But it hadn’t been enough. Never had been. They were fucked from the beginning.


	6. Harder Now That It's Over

**Part Six**

**Harder Now That It’s Over**

_~ I wish you would've grabbed the gun_

_And shot me 'cause I died_

_And I'm nothing now without you_

_Yeah, I'm less than nothing now_

_I’m the one between the bars and lost forever now_

_Harder Now That it’s Over – Ryan Adams ~_

 

The bus was slow and the engine seemed to make a noise that was like a wounded animal at every damn corner the driver took. It was full of maids, gardeners, waiters and the other employees of the large resorts that resided on the beach of the Gulf of Mexico and was hotter than hell. Heero had secured a seat by one of the large windows but it did little to cool him down in the stifling heat, the breeze barely flowing through the vehicle.

This was the last bus. He’d been travelling for nearly three weeks and unable to afford anything more than buses, he’d been forced to take a long and unpleasant journey. He’d slept on benches, slept when he damn could and used what little cash he’d acquired from a few months of work in a shitty auto shop for minimum wage secured by a Parole Officer. It had been a harder damn three months than the three years he’d been locked up behind bars. That he was a free man, that he could walk along streets and stay in shitty half way houses but had no means of making the journey he wanted to make. And no means of contacting Duo.

Jail had been like juvie in many ways – but in many ways worse than juvie as in juvie he’d had Duo and the stolen moments in the shower and the cleaning closet and those moments when Duo was sucking his dick or had him pressed against a wall, thrusting their hips together until they found sticky release. Heero found he could deal with jail – the routine, the blandness of the space, the small cell and the restrictions even without Duo as he had that damn stupid dream still.

He’d made sure they gave him that piece of the magazine back. That it belonged to _him_ and he had it on him when he was arrested and he _needed_ it. Somehow they let him keep it. He supposed it was because unlike his belt, unlike his shoelaces or any other items he had on him, he couldn’t turn a small scrap of paper into a weapon. And he could keep it. Fuck if they really cared.

That had been the first thing he’d done in his cell after meeting his cellmate – putting that picture onto the wall. His cellmate had the top bunk but Heero wasn’t going to bitch about the concept of top and bottom. The thought had made him think of his time with Duo and those teasing conversations and every thought like that had stung so much that first week.  His cellmate didn’t protest as he put that image on the wall beside his bunk so that he could look at it lying on his bed, securing it to the wall with gum as he had nothing else.

Wufei was quiet and it turned out he was a better cellmate than he could have expected – he read on his bunk, meditated, and spoke only when necessary. He didn’t take shit from the other prisoners as it seemed he’d proven himself once and that was enough – that the other prisoners had thought the young man of Chinese descent was somehow an easy mark but his calm demeanour had been a rouse.

It had taken nearly the second year of his time in jail for Heero to discover that Wufei had been charged with murder and he would never be getting out of prison. 

The first week had been damn hard, pushed around and getting used to the new restrictions and routines on his life until the first item of mail arrived for him. He never got time to say a true goodbye to Duo – never got time to say not to do something as dumb as fuck as try and contact him as that would inevitably lead to him being arrested. They knew he had an accomplice but Heero had not revealed anything in those interrogation rooms – never said a word about Duo and he was glad he was in a small rundown town with a shitty police station. He was charged and stood trial for the one robbery, not everything they’d ever done – his caution proven worthwhile as there was no other evidence to link him to any other crime and there was no real evidence about his accomplice. He lived with the hope that they never caught up with Duo those first weeks. It wasn’t until the first postcard arrived that he was certain Duo was outta the reach of the law.

It didn’t say anything on it – Heero vaguely disappointed that there wasn’t a message even while thanking fuck that Duo was being sensible enough not to send him something that had obvious information on it. The postcard only had the words Santa Fe written with images of the city contained inside those letters and nothing else. More followed. Other places in New Mexico – each week one arriving diligently, his name and the address of the prison written in familiar capital letters as though each letter was written out carefully like a prayer.

It was the months later that he received the first ones from Mexico. The final one from American soil came from El Paso until the next one he received came from Cuidad Juarez. When that one arrived, when that one arrived with the words in bold script over an image of the city, Heero knew he’d damn made it, carefully putting it up on the wall alongside the other postcards and spent his nights tracing them with his fingers as though touching something that Duo had fucking touched would bring them closer together.

In moments of doubt, when three weeks passed between postcards or when the other prisoners gave him shit for his postcard collection, he’d think that maybe Duo had met someone else in fucking Mexico and those nights he’d ball up his fists and stare at the bottom of Wufei’s bunk and try not to punch the wall or the bunk or something or _someone._ Then the next postcard would arrive. They soon became non-descript, the locations no longer relevant – he got pictures of alligators and palm trees that said nothing about where Duo currently was and it was then that Heero guessed he’d settled in one place. And it was then he’d think that maybe he was there – maybe he was at that particular damn beach.

Now he was finding that out – stuck on the bus that was far too fucking hot, next to a woman dressed in a maid uniform for one of the large resort complexes and leaning his head against the dusty glass of the window and looking at the busy roads and the crazy seeming driving going on around him. He tried to imagine if three years would’ve changed Duo.  

Heero hadn’t changed. Or maybe he had. Maybe he wasn’t so angry – maybe his temperament had been helped by Wufei who taught him the art of meditation. He’d spent time reading, doing the things he’d never done as a child or teenager – denied those things by constant displacement and the constant changes in locations that had come with being the son of a man who acted as a hit man. Or whatever Odin was to him.

He wondered if Duo would have kept his braid. Would still smile easily. Would still tell him to damn relax and not to think too much. He wondered what his lips tasted like, if he was still damn sensitive in that spot on his neck, whether he would still willingly get on his knees and suck him off like he used to. Heero ran his fingers through his sweaty hair, pushing it away from his eyes and continued to look out at the traffic. He supposed what he really wondered was whether he still loved him. 

The bus finally stopped near to the heart of the tourist area, the employees of various resorts exiting and Heero grabbed his small backpack with what was left of his worldly possessions and followed out into the searing heat breathing in the toxic fumes of the bus before it pulled away taking more employees to different resorts. He brought out a pair of cheap gas station sunglasses from a pocket in his backpack and secured them over his eyes before making his way towards the beach to walk along it to find the particular resort, removing the image from the pocket of his shorts to see the logo of the place one more time before putting it away for what hopefully would be the final time. Considering the time that he’d spent looking at the fucking image, he did not need to check again but somehow stood on the sidewalk under the hot sun over three years after that day where Duo had thrown it at him, he suddenly felt overly cautious again.

Huh. Maybe some of his old paranoia was resurfacing. He felt for a moment like he wanted to discuss that with his cellmate and Wufei would tell him how to banish thought and breathe but he was so far away from that now. And he was finally where he wanted to be.

Heero walked towards the beach and made his way to the sand where he removed his sneakers, the cheap copied versions of Converse and removed his socks, stepping for the first time onto warm white sand. It was a sensation he’d never felt before – never been on a warm beach as he looked out towards a turquoise blue ocean. It did seem damn like the image from that magazine. It felt oddly surreal. Heero walked down that beach, walking passed the vast resort complexes that stood side by side, each one bigger and more blocky than the last. The buildings generally weren’t too pretty but all contained thousands of rooms and he passed each, walking through the vacationers – the mix of couples, of families and groups of friends.

The resort that had featured in that damn piece of paper was all that Heero had – that he had to guess that was where Duo would be as otherwise he had no fucking idea where in the world he would be. The thought of never finding him seemed disturbing, created a lump in the back of his throat and made him feel something he didn’t want to contemplate. That the one person in the damn world had abandoned him. The person whose last words to him had been those whispered syllables against his lips.

“I love you, ‘Ro.”

Three years was a long not to be with someone – a fucking long time to hold onto a memory and it made him doubt that Duo would have. He’d been on the outside. Not in a jail cell where all he had was memories and postcards and reading books and fucking meditating. Duo had people and sunshine. Maybe he just sent the postcards outta some guilt that he’d left Heero. That was all the fuck it could be.

He continued walking until he found the resort and walked towards the spot that the picture had been taken from and feeling an idiot for the hopeful thought that Duo might be damn there – that he might just be sat on a sun lounger waiting as that was a stupid fucking idea. Instead, he saw tourists with skin reddening in the heat of the Mexican sun being delivered cocktails by bored looking waiters dressed in really bad bright white outfits and it was all very wrong from the image he had in his head. For a second, he thought he’d just walk away, go back and get a bus, find somewhere else to go and find someone else and maybe fall in love again… But fuck if he could. Heero had never been an open person, always taught to be closed off and quiet and never let anyone in too much and the only one who had ever got past those defences was Duo. Fuck if anyone else would be able to.

But he couldn’t stay where he was. Too conspicuous or something and he turned to walk away when he saw _him._ For a second he thought he was going damn insane as Duo sure as hell did not dress like that – in a million fucking years Duo would not be in a white polo shirt and white pressed shorts and white tennis shoes, the only black a belt and he even wore a white cap to keep the intense sun from his eyes. Yet it was him – yeah a little older, a bit more tanned but the braid still trailed out from underneath the back of the hat and he still walked with that ever so slight swagger even though he was carrying a tray of pink and orange cocktails, small umbrellas inside them. Heero watched him deliver those cocktails to sunburnt tourists and didn’t dare get his attention but maybe he was staring too damn much or something – his eyes had always been too fucking intense – but then Duo looked up as he placed a bottle of water down next to something that could’ve been a tequila sunrise and their eyes met.

He could see the moment of shock, quickly followed by that of recognition and then Duo was straightening up, swiping empty cocktail glasses and approaching him.

Heero didn’t know what to say. Shit. Words were never his forte – too many times he’d been told in his life to not speak and not give shit away by Odin. Just tell people he was a good dad and they were a happy family so when confronted with Duo for the first time in years, he still didn’t know.

“Heero?”

It was weird to hear his name said like that – he’d nearly forgotten how it sounded when it came out of Duo’s mouth. How good it sounded. How he could make it sound.

“Duo,” he said, the only thing he could think of to say.

Unable to have some big beautiful emotional reunion on the beach as Heero had imagined it, he only held onto his sneakers and scanned Duo’s body and face.

“Fuck… I gotta work… give me two hours and meet me out front, ‘Ro… but fuck… you’re here.”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

They were a long two hours, longer than many of the other’s since they were separated as he loitered out of the front of the resort, watching people walking in and out and waiting for Duo to appear. At nearly two and half hours later, a small black car with peeling paint appeared and the horn beeped at him – Duo saluting him at the driver’s side and indicating for him to get in. He did and the car rattled away, the engine sounding as unhealthy as that of the damn bus he’d arrived on.

They didn’t speak much on the car journey, Duo asked about his journey, how long he’d been out of jail, talking as though they were strangers, the journey oddly tense as Heero rubbed his sweaty palms along his cargo shorts and tried to find a way of articulating what he wanted to say. When they pulled up at a dilapidated small block and Duo parked the car on the side of the road, Heero realised they’d arrived at where Duo was living and followed wherever he led. 

The place was above a laundry, the smell of detergent and chemical seemed to linger, the windows were covered by heavy metal bars and it made Heero think of his own cell. His cell where he counted down his days, put up those postcards and images that arrived in the mail every week and tried to imagine Duo here.

Heero wanted to comment on the place – the one room that reminded him starkly of the time they’d spent at eighteen and nineteen living in that one room apartment in the northwest but he couldn’t say anything flattering. The ratty blankets on a single bed, the bars on the windows, the cracks in the walls and in the ceiling that Duo had covered over with stupid posters – none of it was quite like the image on those postcards, the image on the piece of advertising that Duo had carried around since he was a kid. In those dreams it was always perfect, hot beaches and sand and Duo wasn’t dressed like a waiter and didn’t had a small name badge with a resort name underneath the capitalised MAX.

“It ain’t much but… ya know,” Duo said, a shrug and it was the first time they’d ever been awkward around each other. They’d always known what the other wanted, how the other felt but three years was a damn long time and despite the fact that Heero had thought about him every day behind his bars, he didn’t know what to say now.

Instead, he studied Duo stood in that white uniform, the awful polo shirt and pressed shorts looking completely out of character for _his_ Duo. He then looked towards the bed, the crumpled sheets that indicated more of the Duo he’d told to run from that jewellery store and _that_ was more his Duo – the untidiness reassuring.

“You can shower, ya know, the water pressure is shit but… we had worse in some of those motels…”

He realised he’d not said anything, the heat in the room unbearable and the tension from the car journey ever more stifling in the heat of this tiny place. He didn’t know what to say. That he’d spent nights rehearsing on his bunk, looking up to the one above him and listening to Wufei’s calm breathing and the soft rustling of fabric as his cellmate moved above him. It was those times he thought of this – of Duo being some kinda free spirit living on the beach, sleeping in hammocks or something equally ridiculous. It was those times he thought about being close to him again – remembered what it felt like to kiss him and touch him and fuck him. It felt strange to see the practicalities. That he was working in a resort, that he lived in a shit hole but he had made it. He supposed dreams were worth shit anyway.

“You didn’t…” he began and stumbled over the words. He wanted to say “you didn’t find someone else” or “you haven’t been fucking someone else” but nothing came out.

And Duo looked at him fully, yeah, he was more tanned, maybe had a little more definition to his muscles that had not been there at nineteen, but when he looked at his eyes nothing had damn changed. Still blue. Still big. Still _his_ fucking Duo who just nodded and seemed to understand him like he always had.

“I didn’t,” he said, “ya know, you wanna know the times I get propositioned in this sexy as fuck outfit.” He paused and gestured towards the white, the joking making the tension dissipate a little. Heero felt the corner of his mouth turn into a small smile. A smile no one else had ever got but Duo. “But ya know, there was only ever you, ‘Ro.”

Heero stepped forward, the room was barely big enough for them to be separated by much distance but it felt significant or something. More like the gap of years than the actual distance. He still hesitated at reaching out, he felt like it was fucking dream or something but his dream versions of this moment were always more cinematic. He didn’t smell detergent and chemicals, he wasn’t this fucking sweaty, and Duo wasn’t a cocktail waiter in a shitty white uniform. So it had to be damn real.

Duo spoke again, realising that Heero wasn’t going to give him anything even as he was trying to articulate something. “Ya didn’t… ya know, meet someone in prison,” he asked, his voice suddenly small, “ya know, the whole dropping the soap, prison yard bitch thing?”

“No. That seems to only happen in the movies. Or porn.”

He got a small laugh for that, low, familiar, something that he’d started to forget how it sounded after all that time apart. “Yeah, maybe watched too much porn without you. Kinda had to deal with the sexual energy somehow…”

“You missed me?”

“Shit… babe, every fucking day. I hated myself every night for leaving you there…”

Duo’s posture was awkward, his eyes downcast and Heero never thought of it – that Duo must’ve felt damn guilty for him being free while Heero sat in a jail cell. He made the final step forward so that they were virtually touching.

“I didn’t blame you,” Heero said slowly. “I needed you to be free. I needed to know you were somewhere better.”

“Yeah, well it kinda sucked, Heero. You said we’d go down together.”

“I loved you too much for that.”

“And now?”

Heero only nodded and found he didn’t have to say anything else as Duo had leaned forward and his arms were wrapped around his neck and his lips were on his. Only the lightest pressure on them, almost like the ghost of a kiss, like the final kiss he’d dreamed about every night in jail, those whispered words against his own. The kiss deepened slightly, Duo’s head tilting to the side, his mouth opening but it was a lazy kiss, slow, and nothing like he thought their first meeting would be like.

The kiss parted despite every fibre of Heero’s being not wanting to be separated from Duo for one more damn minute.

“I need to shower… I’ve been travelling for days…” Heero said despite the fact his body was responding to the proximity of being finally this damn close to Duo.

Duo just played with the sweaty hair at the back of his neck, looked up at him, a glint in his eye that Heero had forgotten but was so damn difficult to ignore. Too fucking hot not to.

“Fuck a shower… you’re only gonna get sticky and sweaty again, right?”

Heero had every intention of that, one hand already drifted to Duo’s ass, the other around his waist splayed at the small of his back. The kiss had only been chaste, familiarising, tasting but still his dick was hardening against the onslaught of feelings that having Duo in front of him, next to him, against him… the stuff that he’d dreamed off alone in his prison bunk, jerked off to when he got the fucking opportunity. Yeah, his body wanted Duo now. Fuck the shower.

He leaned back forward to reinitiate the kiss – regretting for a moment the stubble of a few days minus shaving and thinking that Duo might not appreciate going to work with stubble rash but Duo didn’t seem to give a shit. The kiss was open mouthed, impatient, bumping of noses and clashing of teeth and tongues thrusting and warring. It was unlike any kiss they’d ever had and felt too fucking good.

Duo needed to be out of that shitty uniform straight away, Heero thought, the white and the pressed shorts so unbelievably out of character and contrived – it wasn’t the boy he’d met in juvie – the carjacker, the gang banger, the boy with a wide smile, those wild eyes, who jacked him off as a thank you and changed his damn life. He wanted his naked skin tight up against his own and he indicated his need for Duo to be naked by pushing up the white fabric of the shirt further up Duo’s back until they separated, a few steps apart, hastily getting out of clothing, too impatient to sensually undress for the other, instead, Heero watched the shirt get thrown to the floor, the stupid ass white tennis style shoes be untied and taken off and finally the shorts and boxers, as he dropped his own clothing to the floor like it was skin he didn’t need anymore.

It was achievement they managed to get undressed. It would’ve been easier to just fuck still in some damn clothing but then he wanted Duo’s naked skin against his own and he was damned if he was going to miss the opportunity of his sweaty slick skin rubbing against his, the feeling of two naked bodies moving against one another without the barrier of anything else. For a second, Heero just looked at Duo, naked as he was in his jacking off fantasies but then ever so slightly different – he was more tanned, not just in the arms and legs and face like he’d seen against the white of his clothes but along his torso, his muscled pectorals, his abs. He’d always been so pale – never lived outside of the northwest where it rained all the time and they got sun in the heat of summer sometimes but now… he also noticed the scars had almost entirely faded. One solitary scar from his beating was the only evidence of that time and for some reason, the fact that those scars had finally faded made Heero feel something he couldn’t quite identify but his heart was beating faster, his mouth was dry and he didn’t get chance to contemplate that feeling as Duo’s hand made its way down his chest and to his hard dick, gripping it firmly.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Heero said, a moan escaping his lips at the feeling of someone else touching him like no had for so fucking long.

“Feelings mutual, babe,” Duo replied, taking a step back towards the bed, wrapping his unoccupied hand around Heero’s neck and leading him towards, the hand not leaving his erection.

They tumbled onto the bed without any elegance, he thought he heard Duo’s head connect with the wall and he heard a muffled “damn” as elbows and knees knocked together a little uncomfortably. Heero found himself on top of Duo, his face buried in his throat and he lapped the sweaty skin there for a second before shifting and letting Duo move underneath him more, aligning their bodies, their dicks. Duo’s hand slipped from its grip on his cock in their tumble to the bed and he reached up to touch Heero’s face, running his thumb over his lips, Heero licking at the digit before his hand held his stubbled jaw.

“I kinda didn’t think this would happen,” Duo said quietly, a sudden sadness in his voice, “but I wanted it so fucking bad.” He chuckled and looked away for a second under the scrutiny of Heero’s deep blue eyes, his hand slipping from his jaw and then turned back towards him, a curve on his lips that was the same one Heero had seen as fifteen in the cleaning closet, at nineteen in a hundred sleazy motel rooms, in a car, in a rich person’s bed… too many times to count but Heero didn’t need to think of those memories as he had Duo now – hot, sweaty, hard underneath him and that was all that mattered. “Damn, I’m sounding all chicky and shit… you wanna fuck me?”

Heero thrust his hips forward in response and said a low “yeah”. He really didn’t need to articulate any more feelings than that.

He’d wondered if it would feel like the first time those nights in jail when he’d imagine Duo underneath him, all pale skin and long limbs, all eyes closed, braid messy, lips bruised from the intensity of their hurried kisses and he’d stroke himself to completion imagining the “fucks” and the other words falling from Duo’s mouth as he buried himself further into his body. It didn’t feel like the first time, it felt like something falling back into place, as he thrust into Duo, his hips moving in a lazy rhythm trying to hold onto the moment rather than come hard and fast.

It was easy, making jokes about the fact that there wasn’t a ton of lube left as Duo just looked at him and said he had “fucking needs” and that whacking off was one of them. It was easy pushing his fingers inside, feeling Duo’s hitching breath, the shivering of his body as he finally hit prostate and he was stretched enough to take him. It felt easy to slide his cock into resisting muscles until Duo’s body relaxed, accepting him and then he was buried balls deep inside and it was easier than breathing to move his body against and inside and feel so damn connected to someone.

“Jesus – fuck!”

Heero only smirked into Duo’s shoulder as he responded to the sudden movement and he’d switched the position, Heero moving back onto his heels and bringing Duo up into his lap – his face buried into his shoulder and his hands running down his sides as they slid against each other. It was too hot, too sticky, sweat running in rivulets down his neck and back, Duo’s hands on his shoulders as leverage so that he could bring his body crashing down into Heero’s.

They stalled a few times, taking breaths to meet each other’s mouth and take a little more time over the thing, looking into eyes, connecting hands until they couldn’t take it anymore – bodies striving for release and shuddering against one another until they collapsed onto the bed sheets, breathless and uncomfortably entwined around one another.

For a few minutes, they stayed like that the closeness and heat of their bodies unbearable but necessary to feel connected for the first time in over three years. Heero finally moved, his weight maybe just a little too much on top of Duo’s and rolled next to him, the small size of the bed putting him in direct contact with the wall.

He watched as Duo moved, walked over to what generously could be called the kitchen which only contained some kind of mini fridge and a microwave and Duo was picking up a bottle from the counter and walking back over naked. Heero’s eyes fluttered closed, for a second thinking it was a fucking dream, and then opened them again as weight settled on the bed and he saw Duo unscrewing a bottle of tequila.

“Guess this is to us and finally making it n’ all.”

Duo offered the bottle and Heero hesitated for a moment trying to remember the last time he’d had any alcohol before taking a swig from the bottle and nearly choking on the potent taste. It had to be either strong or cheap. Or both.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Duo said with a chuckle as he passed it back and downed some with only the tiniest hint of an expression on his face. “Forgot you ain’t had any booze in forever.”

He screwed the top on the bottle putting it on the floor and moved back to lie on the bed, resting his head on Heero’s chest and Heero found his hand reaching to run down his shoulder blades and run his fingers along the braid as much as he could reach.

“I didn’t think it would be like this,” Heero admitted, quietly and he heard another laugh.

“It ain’t quite what we planned, ya know, but we’ll work it out.” Duo was quiet for a moment and then sat up and looked straight into Heero’s eyes. “Ya know, I can try an’ get you a job at the resort. Always need gardeners or tennis coaches or some shit.”

“Do I have to wear a uniform like that?”

“Hey, asshole, you’ll find cougars think I look hot in it so ya know, increases my tips. Plus I’m sure they could get ya wearing somethin’ worse… spandex maybe.”

Heero snorted, the exhale of breath moving his bangs ever so slightly and Duo grinned, kissed him and returned to his position against his chest.

“No to spandex, ‘Ro?”

“No.”

“I know it ain’t what we imagined…” Duo said softly, his breath against Heero’s sweaty chest. “But we’re here and it’s us forever, ain’t it?”

“Yeah… forever.”

Heero felt the smile against his skin and he continued running his fingers over slick skin until the exhaustion of days of travelling, weeks of not sleeping and years of being apart from the guy he loved took their toll and his eyes closed and he slept thinking – yeah, it wasn’t what they dreamed but it was real and that was better.


End file.
